Week 5 Theme

I grew up here on this little chunk of land in Hancock and I’ve roamed all 10.75 acres of it for the last thirty-two years; ventured across the boundary lines and familiarized myself with almost every square-inch within a five mile radius, so it came without surprise when my husband and I chose this place to set up residence and settle.

Through the pines, across the brook, around the beaver damn and back again, my siblings, nephews, neighbors, my husband and myself built some of the best recreational trails around…for the adventurous at heart. We take our snowshoes, cross country skis, dirt bikes, 3 & 4 wheelers out on them, not to mention just simply hiking them on foot with the kids and dogs for hunting or for adventure. It’s been an unspoken agreement with our bordering neighbors that property lines are redundant, only meant for the town tax collectors; thus we share the scope of our swampy, muddy, mossy terrain. The land is rich in history, not the history you will find in a text book, but a sort of natural history; for along side of, mingling with and beyond our trails are portions – reminiscent reminders of our kin who played here before us. Just sixteen paces left of the tallest knotted pine are the remains of my father’s and uncles aged smoke shack, along the outskirts of the cedar swamp is granddad’s old tree house, and just beyond the junk yard is the massive mud pit bordered by maples all donning carved hearts and initials of past romances, our tree is at the back side of the pit, at one time it blended with the others but now it stands a bit ragged and wounded – a few limbs are missing and it is split near the top from lightening, it has been hit twice (that I’m aware of) by 3-wheelers but it still stands strong – a few scars but nevertheless strong, ironically enough the tree seems to have mirrored our marriage in a sense.

My mother often says, “what does not kill us makes us stronger”, she doesn’t say it for religious reasons, more so because she sees the practicality in it. She’s had lots of opportunities to test her theories, raising eight kids doesn’t come without tribulations; she may have been lucky with me (I may be the exception here – the black sheep of the family) however, my husband fits right in with the rest of them – catastrophe could easily be his middle name.

It was a cool spring morning, two springs ago, when Little John brought over his Honda 250 for us to borrow for the weekend. He quietly backed his pick-up down the drive and rolled it off the back without a word; Mike was still asleep but I was up and stepped out onto the porch, Little John nodded his head at me, smiled and was gone – I felt like the first kid awake on Christmas morning and I had just seen Santa. I quietly slipped back into the house, kicked off my slippers and threw on my Mucks, I didn’t care that I was wearing my night clothes – sweat pants and a flannel nightshirt would be just fine, I flew back out the door and climbed on the 4 wheeled, big red ATV, turned the key and felt it rumble to life. I didn’t want to linger long, at 6:00 a.m. its’ low rumble echoed like a great Maine grizzly attacking the chickadees and I knew in moments Mike would be out the door to steal it away from me, so I kicked it into gear and was out of there! I went the long way around, to hopefully avoid waking him up, down past our neighbors (I’m sure they loved me for this), pass the beaver pond, down through the pines, deep into the back woods I raged through some of the last remaining snow and darted out into the clearing behind the junk yard…the mud pit!

A light frost remained in the ground and the mud was crunchy below the tires, a few puddles had a light layer of ice that I thoroughly enjoyed smashing through and splattering in and out of. It took a few tight donuts in high gear to really get the ground worked up, the pleasure of molding it into fine workable clay felt almost as exciting as foreplay (ok about as equally exciting), with dark mud starting to spit up onto my legs and icy, murky puddle water spattering onto my face – I was having the time of my life! My teeth started chattering, not because it was cold but from the extreme vibration that traveled from my grip on the cracked rubber handles wrapped in duck tape, up my arms straight into my head; the beast was wildly throbbing, yet I held strong - knowing from past experiences how easily one of these could go up on two wheels and flip right over.

My peripheral vision caught a cluster of Alder trees bending and bowing, I dropped gears and slowed to a stop – just before me, less then ten yards away, was a small dotted fawn, his little ears were perked straight up and he was staring right at me. I sat frozen, motionless, staring right back, enjoying the moment but concerned with what bigger friend of his might be accompanying him on his little outing. Seconds past, then a tree branch snapped behind us, startling him provoking him to dart deep into the woods. I remained frozen, a bit frightened, wondering what caused the tree to snap; my eyes frantically scanned the range of view I had without turning my head. I heard a faint rustle of the bushes but could see nothing, I contemplated revving my toy back to life and speeding out of there but fear (or curiosity) kept me frozen still. My heart skipped a beat when I heard the mud suctioning around the new intruders steps as it apparently advanced towards me from behind, my mind was racing on what to do – what to do, I’m sure my brain was still rattling around from all those donuts I had been spinning in and that is why I was not thinking clearer or faster. I had seen bear tracks down here before, heck I had seen them on most all of our trails, why did I think this was a good idea to come out here alone. I was trying to remember what I had learned to do in a bear attack…play dead – right? Just then I felt it, the weight added to the back of the 4 wheeler – I gasped, hot breath heated the back of my neck – sending shivers down my spine, I took one last breath in and then…there it was - a strong paw slamming down onto my shoulder! This was followed by a loud boisterous laugh and I turned and came face to face with my husband. Seeing the fear on my face and my ghostly white appearance (despite the mud that I was covered in) he doubled over laughing himself into a tizzy and muffled out the words, “Serves you right!”.

That was it - my fun was over, he promptly regained his composure, lifted me off the drenched seat and instructed me to stand back and watch a pro at work. As I backed off, trudging through the rutted up, muddy ground towards an old weight bench he fired the beast to life and lurched it forward, triumphantly spinning circles around me. I made it safely to the rusty weight bench and sat – pouting. He just grinned ear to ear and gunned the ATV forward, diving in and out of the trees, nearly missing them, dodging under low limbs and climbing two tires up onto heaps of rocks…all the things I didn’t do (not because I’m a chicken mind you but because I do have some basic common sense) regardless, he enjoyed his carelessness that he calls a pro at work (I call it showing off). I guess he noticed that I was not that impressed for he switched gears and decided to turn up the ground a bit more – working over my donuts he began to spin several of his own. He was not as cautious as I had been, he climbed up onto the seat, resting on one leg – bent at the knee under him while the other was straight back, holding onto only one handle while waving at me with his free hand…he looked like a bear on a ball in the circus, however I couldn’t help but grin a bit. This small grin only encouraged him and he gave it some more gas, cut the corner even tighter and went up onto two wheels – tilting the rig and almost losing his balance, anxiously he tried to regain composure but it all happened too quickly. He lost control of the ATV, without his grip on the handle it spun recklessly out of control, headed towards a tree – our tree – smashed into it, climbed part way up it and then spilled over backwards. There Mike laid, sprawled out, mangled and twisted with a four wheeler on top of him.

I gushed across the sludge and muck to him, pushed with all my might and got the majority of the weight off of him but I stopped dead when I saw his leg, bent in the wrong direction, curled up around the wheel! (I had no idea legs could bend this way!) Thank god for cell phones, so where the heck was mine? (Back home on the charger.) I darted through the woods to our closest neighbors and pounded on the door, J.D. answered in just his boxers. Breathless, I couldn’t produce words. Instinctively (he knew Mike well and this was not the first – or the last time – we knocked on his door), he grabbed his phone and called an ambulance, threw on his work boots and a sweatshirt and followed me back through the woods.

Mike was breathing but shock was setting in and he started to shiver, J.D. and I did what we could to reduce his pain and keep him calm. We didn’t dare move the ATV in fear we would really mess up his leg but we, wrapped J.D.’s sweatshirt around him to try to warm him, talked and joked with him to keep him awake and alert. The ambulance crew found us with ease (this was not their first trip down there), they arrived carrying their gear through the trails, even prepared for the muddy territory; Ken lead the way. Ken always seemed to be on duty when we called (I really should consider inviting him to dinner sometime), he works quick, is familiar with Mike and really knows how to handle a variety of situations with skill and ease. They had Mike boarded and on his way to the hospital in record time.

When I arrived at the hospital, the Doctor on call informed me he was fine, a few cuts and scrapes and a severely damaged knee but nonetheless fine. They wanted to keep him for a few days and prep him for surgery; he had shattered some bone, torn some ligaments and needed a complete ACL repair. He assured me Mike would be okay, that he was lucky and that he would be out of work for only about six months (only!). I knew this news would not settle well with Mike, he is not a man to be kept down – I was right, he scoffed when the doctor repeated this all to him but little did both Mike and I realize at the time, Mike was lucky and should have listened and took some down time.

Mike did go through with the surgery (there was no way around that) but to be without work for six months – he was going mad! He tried to move around and go to work, he was painting at the time and tried, boy did he try, he even attempted to hop up a ladder, however, the coursing pain shooting through his body humbled him and he painstakingly realized he was homebound for now but he did not rest – he “was not a man to be kept down” as he put it….so, this ATV accident, knee surgery and six months of ‘down’ time was really - just the beginning…