Rural Life in the UP of Michigan Some stories about life on 160 rural acres in the Upper Peninsula of Michigan

Those of you who know me well all probably agree I am not a fashionable dresser. I tend to choose clothing that is functional, and when I find something I like, I wear it until I have to reluctantly give it up. Today was one of those reluctant transitions for me. My chopper mitts have been with me for a few years now. During the winter they are my companion for months on end. Besides keeping me warm, they also take quite a beating on my behalf.

While we were out getting this year’s christmas tree, it was noticed that my mitts were getting a bit long in the tooth, and a new pair of 2XL moosehide mitts showed up under the tree. Yay! I’ve always believed that the best gifts are the ones you get because someone that cares about you notices and takes action. Then began the struggle of letting go of the old ones and the substitution of the new.

Well, today was the day. I took the good liners from my old friends, and put them into the new mitts, and wore them outside a couple of times. Where my old ones were stiff, these guys were supple. Where the wind whistled through the old ones, here it bounced off like bullets from kryptonite.

While I was walking the dog after supper tonight, I looked down at my new mitts, and noticed something important was missing. Every skuff, hole, rip, and place where the old leather was paper thin was the result of some project or another. Whether I was tossing wood, throwing the dog’s stick, or handling the chainsaw, these wear marks are the mirror image of the the manual motions that produced them. Maybe that is why I keep wearing things so long. Maybe I like being reminded that I am accomplishing things. That every frayed edge is the result of a passion being resolved. And what a wonderful thing that is.