18C sunny
Yard work yesterday. With this dry weather it is hard to keep the flowers happy looking.

He reached back in; there was nothing else.

  Nat smiled to himself as he thought about that day, ‘funny I should remember that after all these years, I guess it’s just 'cause I’m looking and hoping’.

  He had decided that he would throw every loose item he found in a pile in each building, then go over everything to see if he had anything worth keeping.  It didn’t take long. 

  The tool shed was first, he tossed the broken tools, the grease tubes and a few nuts and bolts to one side. He kept a short piece of one inch galvanized pipe and two hack saw blades, just as he was leaving he spied a small roll of brass wire.

  The cook house was better, he kept a table knife and two forks, a thin but otherwise whole whet stone an onion sack, a lamp half full of kerosene and a gallon plastic vinegar container.

  The two bunk houses yielded two coke bottles and a sheet of plastic about six feet square.  As he was moving all his treasures into one pile he remembered a story his Dad had told him about leaving a hunting knife hanging behind the door of a trapper’s shack he had stayed in once.  He shook his head, smiled ruefully and said aloud, “I wish!”

  He kept on with bundling everything, then straightened up, a far away look on his face, ‘won’t hurt to look’ he thought.  It had dawned on him that in each of the four buildings he had opened the doors and left them open wide while he searched.

  He went back to the tool shed, but its door opened out, he moved to the cook house pushed the door open, an old sweater was hanging on a nail on the back of it. Nothing under it but in the pocket a small box, it was half full of matches!  Were they any good?  He couldn’t tell without striking one, if he did that, it would be one match less. He put them in his pocket and went to the first bunk house and pushed open the door; nothing behind it.  He went to the second pushed again and when he looked behind, hanging on a nail was a leather belt and a sheath knife! “My god!” He said aloud, “Thanks Dad, I owe you one.”

  A thought suddenly hitting him, he picked up the knapsack and fumbled inside until he found the quart of aviation oil. He poured most of the oil out then carefully poured the contents of the lamp into the quart container.  He started to toss the lamp away, then stopped, unscrewed the top and removed the wick.  He tore off a small piece of the sheet of plastic and rolled the wick in it.

 His pile of goodies wasn’t very big but with everything he already had it was more than the knapsack could hold. 

  He looked through everything once more hoping he had missed something.  He came up empty handed. He sat in the doorway of the cook house then suddenly jumped up walked to where everything was laying, he took his new knife out of its sheath and grabbing the knapsack and cushion split the top seam of the cushion cover.  In moments he had everything with the exception of the new knife and the hatchet stowed in either the knapsack or in the seat cushion. The new knife was strapped around his waist, the axe slung with it.

  He started to leave then thought of one more place to check.  About a hundred yards off was the drill hole and just beyond that a small garbage pit.  There was nothing around where the hole had been drilled but he did find a quart sized can that for some reason had not rusted out as badly as any of the others.  He punched a small hole in it with his leatherman and wired it to the pack with a small piece from the roll of wire.

  Suddenly there was an urgency to head out once more; he paused and looked back as he reached the edge of the small flat.  From somewhere came an echoing bellow, ‘a moose?’ a shiver ran down his spine, he hurried back down the road.