Dedication
For my lovely readers in Frankie’s Book Group … this one’s for you!
May we all find ourselves some mistletoe and a chance to get frisky this Christmas!
xoxo, frankie
Chapter One
Hot pink fleece gloves? Check.
Knee-high, fur lined boots? Check.
Hand knit, mint green, beanie? Check.
With my outfit complete, I step out of my Subaru, crunch across the snow, and open the trunk. Grabbing my loppers and a basket, I begin my trek into the woods.
The weather has been cold all month, but it hasn’t snowed in three days. I should be able to get in and out within an hour, and still be home before lunch. I just need to cut down several cedar branches boughs of holly and get home by dark.
Before locking the car, I pull out my phone and text my sister.
Me: I’m in Northstar Forest. Just in case I get lost.
Willa: What the eff are you doing there?
Me: Best cedar trees around.
Willa: All that effort to make a dozen wreaths? U R Cray Cray.
Me: It’s Christmas. #tradition.
Willa: Tommy is a terror today.
Me: He’s two. Hang in there sista.
Willa: Easier said than done Auntie.
I smile, she’s got a pretty good set-up from my vantage point. A man, a baby, and a house that is a home.
Me: I’ll come babysit.
Willa: Thx, but don’t you have your ugly Xmas sweater thing? Time to get drunk with your fifty closest friends.
I smirk. My sister loves to tease me about my social calendar. But what can I say? I’ve always been the sorta person who loves to stay busy.
Me: I’d cancel all of it to be with Tommy. You know that.
Willa: I know. I’m being a brat. Can’t help but be a teensy bit jealous of your life is all.
Me: I love you, sister. Nothing to be jelly of.
Willa: xoxo. Stay safe.
I pocket my phone and put on my gloves. Even though I told Willa that she has nothing to be jealous of... I know it’s not the truth.
There are a ton of things I love about my life. My home business has totally taken off. I have an adorable little one-bedroom house on the cutest street in town.
There’s always someone to hang out with -- I went to college here and have made a ton of connections in the four years since I graduated. I attend a book club and a knitting group -- weekly events where my girlfriends and I get drunk on boxed wine.
And I always have plans on Friday nights. And Saturday nights. The girls and I go out dancing, meet guys, and enjoying everything the city offers.
I figure living life in the fast lane won’t last forever… but so long as it does, I’m all in.
Body shots in Mexico instead of Valentine’s day at home? Check.
Renting a party bus for my friends’ birthdays? Check.
Hosting bridal showers and baby showers when said friends get hitched and knocked-up? Check.
I look out at the snow-covered mountain. Everything is so quiet. Still.
For a moment, I can’t help but wish my life were more like this. Like my sister’s, even.
Sure, Willa would love to have more girls’ nights out, but she has Tommy and Ethan. She has everything.
And I tell myself I have everything I need too.
Even if the truth is I’ll be alone on Christmas morning.
Which is why I am determined to deliver these handmade wreaths to my neighbors. I won’t feel the pang of loneliness quite so sharply if I’m walking around my neighborhood.
I start hiking into the trees, wanting to find the perfect branches to make wreaths. This has become my annual tradition—and on Christmas morning I deliver them to all my neighbors.
As I step over a fallen branch and inhale the pine and cedar scent, the air crisp and cold, I smile, watching tiny snowflakes cover my coat.
I start looking for usable branches to cut. Oddly, though, the good ones are all fairly high, out of my reach. Instead of attempting an impossible climb, I keep walking knowing that eventually, I’ll find what I’m looking for.
My mind’s on the blog post I’m planning to write this afternoon -- after all the cedar is laid out on my workbench to dry. I’ll photograph each step in the wreath making process, and use them in a how-to post.
My readers love those the most. Helpful, affordable -- and always cute. That’s the motto on my website, EASIER WITH EVIE.
As I am thinking through the steps to make the wreaths, I realize: 1) I’ve walked quite a way from the car and 2) the snow is coming down awfully thick.
Like too thick.
Like, it’s basically a blizzard.
Dangit.
I pull out my phone -- why I don’t know. Probably because I’m tethered to this thing 24/7 and I’m hoping Siri can tell me that the weather is going to clear up in the next three to five minutes or something.
She doesn’t tell me anything.
NO SIGNAL.
Fantastic.
Pursing my lips in concentration, I try to retrace my steps. But the snow is coming down so heavily that I can’t even see where I came from. And it’s getting cold. I can’t feel my toe, it’s so cold.
And I’m walking in circles trying to find my way but only getting more turned around.
Frick.
I squeeze my eyes shut. I’m not one to panic. While I maybe not be exactly conventional in my methods, I have a system for everything. I’m prepared and organized and do things in order. Evie order.
Step 1: Get the hell out of the forest
Step 2: Find some whiskey and warm up
Step 3: Go to the hardware store and buy some freaking pre-made wreaths.
Lost in a snowstorm wasn’t the plan. Making wreaths to put a smile on my neighbor’s faces shouldn’t be this complicated.
I want to be a strong, independent woman, and for the most part -- I am.
But right now, I need help.
I feel my eyes prick with tears, and suddenly I feel alone. And scared.
And that is pretty much the last way anyone should feel two days before Christmas.
Chapter Two
Sitting in my cabin is usually my favorite fucking place to be.
This year, though, it’s different.
Maybe I’m restless, just needing some sort of change of scenery. Not that I’d ever leave my place in the woods -- hell no, but sometimes it feels like I am missing something.
Missing someone.
I run my fingers over the worn photograph of my family. My parents and sister. They died when I was twenty-two, in a car accident -- coming to visit me in the city. Fucking sad as hell, a tragedy without any silver lining. They were the salt of the earth people, true grit -- good as gold. Taken way too damn soon.
It put life into fucking perspective. I got rid of the three-piece suits and silver cufflinks I wore for my stupid-ass job where I clocked in for the man, and started reading about living a slower life. One where I’m wasn’t chasing the next weekend high of parties and friends and women.
So, I built a cabin. Planted a garden. Fucking canned tomatoes and got a goat, some chickens, and a few pigs. I was all in. That’s how I’ve always been with everything.
And I documented it all. One entry a day, and three hundred and sixty-five days later I had a book. And then another. So far I’ve published five. Day in the Life of an American Mountain Man.