good morning ~

(click the snowy resting place / link to listen)

today’s track is a live studio excerpt I pulled from one of the takes while putting together my video for the StrethMetal Drone-a-Thon happening this Saturday (I believe my set airs 6pm EST):

Just before the first big snow she laid down and died, chose that particular swell of the grassy hill behind our house as her final resting place, then disappeared for a time into the accumulation. First I heard of it - a text from my wife that reads "a deer died in our yard?????????" In the accompanying photo the creature looked at peace, like no harm of any particular kind had befallen it.

A couple of days later when the snow receded some I found that I could no longer abide simply leaving the animal there. There were a number of reasons for this, one being that being kept indoors by heavy snowfall kind of drives me insane, I hadn't been meaningfully out of the house in a couple of days. But the other reason is that I was suddenly existentially repulsed by the disembodiment of my productive life - emails, files, invoices, awaiting replies, zoom meetings, checking my bank account, all deeply non-actual feeling. There behind the house was a body, an animal corpus, let me slip on the work gloves.

All through the snowstorm the deer remained at peace and on closer inspection the mystery of its circumstances grew - I saw no wound of any kind, read no distress on the animal's face, could not discern any sign of struggle whatsoever. She looked comfortable, even - I felt kind of bad for disturbing her, but I couldn't imagine watching her slowly return to the earth and I felt a little concerned for our drinking water which comes from a well back there. My father-in-law advised us to simply drag the deer into the road and call the highway department, but I remembered my frustrations in alerting anyone with authority to the fact of an injured bear last year when I clipped one in the road and was pretty sure I wouldn't be able to find anyone who cared in our county. Still, Richard knows things, so I endeavored to get her down the hill. Not having any kind of felt understanding of the weight of an adult doe, I brought with me a shovel and our bright green saucer sled, but found pretty quickly that firmly pulling by her front hooves would be the way. We held hands as I led her around the house and down toward the salted highway, the weight of her body smoothing the snow beneath her.

Once she was near the end of our driveway I tried my due diligence. I called a number of town and county offices, getting mostly out-of-date voicemail messages. The one person I did speak to didn't have any particular advice or guidance, plus I recalled that our shitty neighbor works for the highway department and part of me got a little paranoid imagining him watching me haul this corpse onto the motorway. By the time I finished calling around the early winter nightfall had come on, the light of a full moon throwing crazy shadows from the recently naked trees. I grabbed the shovel and went back out into the air.

I'm willing to admit now that the first resting spot I chose was done so foolishly. I wanted to avoid dragging the deer further than I needed to, so I chose a spot near where I had left her by the driveway. I dug out a layer of snow, then a layer of sod, but there was far more shale underneath than I anticipated. I assumed I'd be able to dig past it, so I drove the shovel into the emerging pit again and again, the shovel striking dramatically in the dark every time it hit rock, early man trying to light a fire. Gracelee came home and found me still at it, puffing and sweaty, and pointed out that I'd probably have better luck if I tried it somewhere else. My hands ached from gripping the shovel, she was right (she also knows things), I relented. My wife - and a number of other people actually - asked me (with love), why are you doing this slash are you okay? I'm good, I said, really good, actually, I'm dealing with some stuff.

The next day began by filling back in the first hole and in the daylight I was honestly impressed at how much progress I had made into what was like 80% rock (I am nothing if not dogged). When selecting another spot I allowed myself the luxury of deep empathy and tried to imagine where the deer would like to ultimately rest and when I started digging at the edge of our patch of meadow the work felt beautifully easy, hilariously possible. In the days since I have gone back to this notion often - there is something noble in attempting something impossible, but ease makes work more viable, and continuing to labor at a Sisyphean task is perhaps indulgent. And there was still a demented amount of toil ahead of me - I soaked through my long johns in exertion, splattering mud all over my boots and my face. This was the cold-lung, warm-core, non-email feeling I had pined for and the smell of the earth and the aches of my body were sumptuous consequences of my efforts.

Many shovelfuls later, it was finally time to inter the deer, a body that never lost its peace - not that it expressed gratitude, necessarily, but she never once protested through this whole protracted affair. And when I moved the remains it revealed a living patch of grass as if some of its essential warmth remained. This creature chose our clearing as its final resting place, as if it knew we would provide it with protection and dignity on its journey over the threshold. The grave was good and true, plenty ample. The deer slid in noiselessly and seemed almost grateful for the eternal tucking in of mud from the shovel. We all go, we all return, may we lay down in the snow in peace.

But what about you? Have you buried anything recently? Do you sometimes do things that lightly concern your partner? How do you wanna go?