Posted on: March 21st, 2013 by Stag
Now that Spring is practically upon us, I find myself taking several trips down the â€˜ol memory lane. In my much younger years I would visit with my family in Minnesota, with my grandfather particularly. He being the archetype â€˜50â€™s manâ€™s man; we would build everything with his hands. He worked at the local beer manufacture called Hammâ€™s Beer Company. If you are from anywhere east of the Mississippi river you may have heard of it. He also had a small hunting cabin in South Dakota. Visiting this cabin was always my favorite. It was something that he and I would do together, just the boys in the woodsâ€¦with guns.
I vividly remember the location, the smells, the way the light hit the trees and the cabin. It was truly beautiful. We would spend hours walking in the woods and looking for any game in the area. Even though we never really found much in the times that we went, it was always a great time. It seemed to be more about just getting away and being out in the middle of nowhere. It was as if we simply used the excuse to go hunting as the reason to be there. The cabin however was always my favorite part. It was so clichÃ© and seemingly typical of a â€œhunting cabinâ€. It was a log cabinâ€¦literally; my grandfather had built it in the 1930â€™s with his father, and had been used in our family since, even still today. The fire place was stone, and the walls were laden with trophies of he and his fathersâ€™ conquests over the years.
Near each and every door, from inside to outside you would find wildlife rugs of some sort. There was a great variety of them, from entry mats donning Malards, or door mats with Wolves and Deer. It was as if they had collected them over the years to don the cabin with Bears and Turkeys and any other kind of imaginable wildlife scene mats. I always felt that it fit to the cabin and every time that I see an indoor mat with a nature scene it makes me think of that cabin and the Springs that I spent in the wild Dakotas.
Posted on: October 15th, 2012 by Ben Gonzalez
Rain… Door mats…The smell of wet earth and asphalt beneath our feet. Â The subtle scents of maple embers gently burning upon open fires everywhere. Â The deep green hues of hill sides on the horizon brought back to life by the life inducing breath of fresh precipitation. Â I can really start to see, hear, and smell it all around me this time of year. Â You say you don’t? Â Then you must be in southern California; where Summer is perpetual and the middle finger is the universal commuter greeting.Â Tragic for someone as in love with cold, gloomy weather as I am… Luckily, the last couple of days have been quite autumn-esque with the aforementioned delights. Â By far, Autumn weather is THE sexiest weather of all.Â Sure. Â Some of you beach bodies out there relish in the supposed delights of SoCal summer with its warm breezes, hot sun, hot women, and the perpetual, mostly-infernally hot air.Â Â
Not me, though. Give me some rain, some scotch, and a fireplace for me and my sweetheart to re-enact our late night Best-of-80′s-R&B infomercials. You know the ones. Â Fire place, aqua-net hair, cheap wine for the lady, tacky sweaters, and that awesome, and I mean AWESOME, Scenic Wildlife Rugs designed by Eddie LeRoy and the Hautman Brothers!
What better way to channel my inner romantic than to proudly display A PACK OF WOLVES (yes that’s right, freakin WOLVES! when inviting the misses for a fire side ‘chat’. Â Did I mention WOLVES! ON MY FLOOR! YES!!!! Â Or perhaps you’re more of a buck? Â Fret not, dear friend. Woo her untamable spirit with the Eddie LeRoy Elk design. Â Perhaps youâ€™re neither of those, however. Â Maybe what you need is the immovable fixation of the FOCUSED COUGAR (yes, that’s a real mat!!) Shine like the solitary beast you are! Â If none of those tickle yours or her fancy, we’ve got bears, more wolves on the move, spring turkeys. Â Did I mention we’ve got a MAJESTIC TIGER! YOU CAN’T BE A MAHOGONY FURNITURE-OWNING MAN WIHTOUT ONE!Â Turn up the Luther Vandross or Michael McDonald and get on that mother.Â The home rug, I mean.