What’s a body to do in the depths of winter?
In my mind’s eye I can see my paternal grandfather as clearly as if it was only yesterday. He would be perched atop his “throne,” a sturdy rocking chair that today is one of my most prized possessions. It rested close to the stove, which heated the living room of his home (in those days “dens” were places bears went to hibernate or a hollow tree where squirrels spent the night) and was the place from which he told tales and offered opinions on all sorts of matters.
Invariably, sometime in January or February, with me in attendance as his audience of one, Grandpa Joe would mutter: “What’s a body to do in January?” He really didn’t have questions about what was to be done. He performed daily chores such as feeding the chickens, filling the coal scuttle, checking on things in the cannery, retrieving some turnips or winter squash for Grandma’s table, or taking care of tasks such as pruning trees, with a will and in a hard-working manner which formed a constant thread through his entire life.
Similarly, Grandpa could find plenty of relaxing things to do when he had spare time, a commodity that might have been scarce in spring, summer and fall but was fairly abundant in the gray, grim days of winter. He loved to whittle and always had his keenly-honed pocket knife out shaping a dogwood prong into a slingshot, crafting a flutter mill, turning a straight elderberry shoot into a popgun, or just making shavings fly for the pure joy of it. Similarly, he invariably indulged in the telling of tales when he whittled. I’d give what he would have called a “pretty penny” to have a recording of his favorite stories.
Most of all, Grandpa asked “what’s a body to do?” just so he could supply me answers. Invariably his response to his question was multi-pronged and intended as a quiet reminder the world of nature surrounding us has mysteries without end to explore, adventures to pursue, game to hunt and the future to plan.
He loved what he called “dreamin’ and schemin’,” that is to say, making plans for future fishing trips, a squirrel hunt or maybe the acquisition of some prized item of sporting equipment. Grandpa never had much in the way of material wealth. In fact, he was so poor, he invariably spoke of “cash money” when talking about currency as opposed to the barter system that had been predominant during the early part of his life. But he could look dreamily at a Sears & Roebuck catalog’s sporting goods section with great joy, point at a gun or fishing rod, and utter “Wouldn’t it be grand to have one of those.”
Invariably though, sessions of wishes and wistfulness soon turned to more practical matters. For example, he might observe he had seen lots of rabbit signs around the fields and would then suggest: “Let’s building us a rabbit gum or two. I’ve been hankering for a mess of fried rabbit with biscuits and gravy. I bet putting some gums out in the right place and baiting them with some of those stored apples that have started to wither would be just the trick.” We didn’t actually catch that many cottontails but making the gums sure was fun.
In truth, I didn’t need any encouragement when it came to getting outdoors. Whether hunting small game, simply wandering in the winter woods, looking for likely fishing holes come spring, swing on wild grave vines, shinnying up limber pine saplings and “riding” them to the ground, building forts against a perceived Indian menace, or exploring some of the limestone caves along the Nantahala River, there were adventures aplenty awaiting.
I’m afraid today’s youngsters don’t pursue enough of these kinds of simple activities, but many of them are readily available. All they take is what Grandpa would have called “a ration of gumption.” That being said, I’ll close with two thoughts. First, encourage children to get outdoors, because there’s plenty for “a body to do.” Second, never mind I’m now pretty much of the age Grandpa was when he was opining, it looks like a fine day to go bushytail hunting, and it’s been too long since I enjoyed a mess of squirrel and sweet taters.
This story was originally published January 14, 2017 at 10:02 PM with the headline "What’s a body to do in the depths of winter?."