And now:Ish <[EMAIL PROTECTED]> writes:

>X-Originating-IP: [24.92.0.22]
>From: "Karen Mitchell" <[EMAIL PROTECTED]>
>To: [EMAIL PROTECTED]
>Subject: Back to Nature: Uninvited Guest-Part 2
>Date: Wed, 23 Dec 1998 14:40:12 PST
>
>Remember this one hasn't come back to  me from the editors yet, so 
>overlook any errors, please.
>Karen 
>******************************************************************
>Back to Nature:
>Univited Guest Part 2
>Uninvited Guest II
>
>The night sky was clear through to the vaulted heavens above where stars 
>pinholed into the darkness as the Milkyway ribboned across the galaxy, 
>like gauze on dark, blue velvet.  The temperature had dropped to a 
>bitter cold of - 40 degrees Celsius.  I stood at the living room window 
>for a long time looking out over the frozen landscape.  Icicles hung 
>like daggers from the eaves of the small, log cabin.  At this time of 
>the year in the Rockies the weather could be very unpredictable, one 
>minute calm and serene like a picture on a Christmas card, but in the 
>next minute turning violent, dangerous with deadly cold. I felt thankful 
>for the large fireplace that served partially as my stove and oven, 
>supplemented by a small, relatively useless, one burner, hot plate and 
>an old, electric heater that took the chill off the solitary bedroom.  
>Our water was pumped from the stream that ran a few hundred feet from 
>the front porch. I was never sure why or how this cabin came to be built 
>way out here alone in the wood but it was both affordable and adequate 
>for my three year old daughter, Jennifer, our one year old 
>Husky-malamute pup, Grishka and me.  The thick, log walls were ample 
>insulation against a normal cold but the biting cold outside seemed to 
>seep through them now.  I shuddered and thought I�d warm myself with a 
>hot cup of tea, but when I turned on the tap nothing came out. It�s been 
>necessary, on occasion, to loosen the ice from around the intake pipe 
>that laid on the bottom of the stream, but I�d been fortunate so far 
>that I�d been able to catch the problem during the day. Since we�d been 
>out all day I hadn�t noticed that the tap had stopped dripping until 
>now.  This wasn�t a job that could wait, for the longer it was left the 
>tougher and more solidly frozen the pipe would become. I�d have to go.
>
>Dressed like a mummy, I took Grishka, my ax and a bucket and set out for 
>the stream. The cold met me like a brick wall as I stepped out the door, 
>taking my breath away.  I trudged on. As the ax struck the ice it 
>shattered like glass flying in jagged pieces upon my arms and legs and 
>stinging my face like pin-needles.  I smashed the ax repeatedly through 
>the thick ice then dragged the bucket to lift out the shards.  My gloves 
>became soaked, but I could see the pipe where frozen debris covered the 
>opening. I had no choice but to plunge my hands into the icy cold water 
>to remove it.  After several attempts my hands became numb and my gloves 
>frozen stiff, but I was able to clear it.  As I made my way back to the 
>cabin, all of a sudden my ankle turned underneath me and bent sideways.  

>I heard it crack. For a moment I wasn�t sure what had happened then I 
>remembered the holes that playful Grishka had dug in the front yard.  
>The pain was searing as I tried to stand and fell back to the hard, 
>frozen earth.  I called to Grishka but his puppy mind thought I was 
>playing with him so he proceeded to leap over me, pulling and tugging at 
>my jacket, knocking me to a further disadvantage. I yelled at him to 
>stop.  He froze in fear.  Head lowered, he cautiously approached me.  
>Softly I spoke to him and pulled him near me.  Bracing my arm over his 
>body I pulled myself up on my knees.  The cabin seemed a long ways away 
>now and my hands were becoming useless and stiff but I managed to sink 
>one into Grishka�s thick fur.  "Let�s go home," I said sternly. At first 
>he tried to leap then he stopped and look at me in a heap and I saw the 
>look change in his face.  His master was in trouble.  Step by step he 
>slowly walked toward the cabin as I crawled on my knees holding onto 
>him.
>
>The pained ankle was soon overwhelmed as the warmth of the cabin set 
>upon my frozen hands and face in aching throbs.  Miserably I sat in 
>front of the fire,  then remembered the cup of tea that had started all 
>this.  I hobbled over to the sink, "Yes, the water was flowing!"  I 
>stoked the fire and threw on another log for the long night as well I 
>thought I�d warm up the deer stew that I�d made earlier to revive 
>myself.  The door bolted, the fire ablaze, warm stew in my belly and my 
>ankle wrapped in a hot towel I fell asleep on a chair in front of the 
>fire only to be awakened by a low, guttural  moan from Grishka.  He 
>moved closer to me and once again I was reminded of his squeamish 
>behavior earlier in the day.  Then I heard something too, twigs breaking 
>under foot, the soft thumps of someone nearing the cabin.  Grishka 
>jumped up staring at the door. The hair along his back shackled as he 
>growled fearfully.  I too felt my throat tighten and my senses become 
>alert as I realized this was no human but something large with four 
>feet.  What else could it be but a bear and at this time of year a 
>Grizzly, attracted by the scent of the meal cooking on the fire. I leapt 
>to my feet momentarily  forgetting about my ankle, immediately falling 
>to the floor.  Crawling to the fire I took a cloth and lifted the pot of 
>stew from the fire to the hearth. Grunting and panting, the bear began 
>running circles around the cabin.  Jennifer came from the bedroom.  
>"What is it, Momma? What�s out there?"  This was no time for long 
>explanations, "It�s a bear! Be absolutely quiet!" I said firmly.  
>Grishka growled defensively.  Lord, I thought, That�s all I need.  The 
>bear threw his weight against the wall and clawed at the timbers.  I 
>looked around. The cabin itself was strong but what about the door and 
>the window?  I pushed furniture against them, gritting my teeth to 
>disregard the pain of my ankle.  Jennifer pushed too.  With barred door 
>and window and ax in hand, we retreated to the bedroom where we pushed 
>the bed against the door and was thankful that in this room the tiny 

>window was set up high.  Bashing his body against the walls, he�d snort, 
>then run circles again.  Grishka tried to growl but Jennifer and I held 
>his mouth tightly shut as we huddled, terrified and silently prayed.  
>The bear raged for hours slashing his huge claws on the logs until the 
>dawn light began to filter through the curtains. Only then did he 
>finally give up and turn away. It took another half hour before we felt 
>safe enough to inspect the damage.  My mind was convinced that if I 
>opened those curtains I�d meet the bear face to face, but it wasn�t so. 
>He�d left the cabin scarred, strips of wood and bark hanging in shreds 
>from the logs and the snow trodden into a dirt path around the cabin as 
>huge footprints were set in the icy snow.  We were lucky.  Jennifer 
>looked at me leaning against the cabin on one foot. Concerned she asked, 
>"Mom, remember what day this is?"  For a moment I didn�t and then 
>realized, "Oh honey, it�s Christmas eve�s day!"  "Yes," she said, "What 
>if the bear comes back and Santa�s here?"  Oh boy, I thought, how will I 
>answer this one?  I looked to the roof, "Well, I don�t see any bear 
>marks up there, do you?"  She looked and agreed that sure enough the 
>claw marks were almost to the roof, but the roof was untouched.  She 
>shook her head satisfied, then called to Grishka pointing her finger, 
>"But you�you�d better stay  inside with me!"  Grishka followed her with 
>no objections.
>
>That evening we sat around our decorated tree. The house was scented in 
>pine.  The forest was quiet, no ravens or bears or pounding storms, just 
>the crackling of a warm fire and the tinkle of icicles against the 
>window.  Safe and sound with my little family cuddled around me, I 
>offered thanks to the Creator for all that had been given us and fell 
>asleep once again in front of the warm glow of the fire.  
>
>
>with respect,
>Karen RedFox
>Watch the clouds, Watch the waves, Watch the flames.
>They take you home. They take you to Ain-dah-ing.
>http://www.geocities.com/~mystudio
>
>
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