New Year

Deer hunting is my New Year. I sit out there resolving to get my life in order, lean things out, do better as a husband, a dad. I find myself deep in the brown weeds swearing to trim the literal and figurative lard. Nature is ruthless in this sense: you hunker there on the cold ground or in the bare tree and feel what it’s like to be stalked by your own deficient soul. I like a pretty calendar as much as the next bank customer, but the true power of nature is how it looks at me.

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