It’s an unspoken tradition.
The boys go rabbit hunting on Thanksgiving morn. Spirits were flagging yesterday as a steady downpour continued until noon … but then it stopped. Almost. Phones started ringing. Various pieces of camouflage and orange apparel were pulled out and put on. Shotguns readied.
Suddenly, the grumpy Gusses sitting in my house and my sister’s house and my sister-in-law’s house were transformed. Men with a mission … men with a purpose-driven life.
They said, “Let us hunt!”
And all was well.
They returned several hours later.
No matter that they saw only one wascally wabbit on this soggy Thanksgiving. They had hunted. They felt revived. Refreshed. Strong. Capable. Ready to eat, drink and be merry.
And prepared to play card games with eager offspring for hours and hours, late into the night.
We all enjoy the hunt.
Some hunt for wabbits and wildlife. Some hunt for Black Friday bargains. Some hunt for the perfect gift for their special someone. It’s not the hunt that matters. It’s the reason behind it and the satisfaction that comes from the effort.
Success is sweet, but the experience is what truly matters.
Such is life.
P.S. You’re welcome to meander over to Farmgirl Finds for some gift hunting of your own. We’ll be open today from 10-4. And I promise … no long lines, convenient parking, and unique decor and stocking stuffers, gifts and treasures for the picking.