Write about: the snare.
I picked some apples for a local order this morning, along with a zucchini and cantaloupe for a friend Kat was meeting up with at the park. While I was out there I noticed that there were still some strawberries being produced by our everbearing plants, so I grabbed some of those to send along for the kids to enjoy. And the parents, I suppose.
I should maybe have another look at those plants on Friday, see if there's enough out there to make a pint or two for the market.
Max spent the afternoon with Natalie and Becky's mom. Her 'other' grandma is here for a long visit and it's nice to see that he's getting more comfortable with her. Particularly when it lets Kat and I have an afternoon together.
"Check the traps."
That's my job now. I go out at daybreak and collect what's to be collected, if anything. Reset any snares that need resetting. I do it all again after dinner.
I prefer my morning rounds. Something about the peace and quiet of early morning. Plus I don't feel rushed, like I'm racing against darkness like I am on my evening checks. I do not want to be caught outside of camp by the setting sun.
This has not always been my role. This isn't what I did growing up. No, in the city there wasn't much need for catching small animals. Well, animals of any size, really. Not unless you were some kind of sicko.
But the end of times has a funny way of changing the course of a young man's life, I guess. Take away his comfortable home. Steal his technology. Kill off his friends and family.
Life can get pretty hard.
I'm one of the fortunate ones. To have a community like this. We look out for each other. Keep each other safe. Keep each other alive.
Sure, none of us are doing anything like what we did before. But before doesn't exist anymore. There is only this. This... survival. So we all do what we have to do to get through each and every day.
Me? I check the traps.