The sunrise woke me up as its soft glow reflected over the small lake. My brain slowly started adjusting as I remembered where I was… at the homestead in Big Lake, Alaska. The thought of getting out of bed this particular morning was not easy.
This Sunday was special; Kaitlin and I were going to help Bruce butcher the moose he shot the previous week. Getting a moose is a an exciting event, so aside from my thoughts about how terrible butchering the moose was going to be, I was really excited for Bruce.
I took my sweet time eating breakfast, but eventually, Frances, Kaitlin’s grandma, caught on to us, or at least me (not sure about Kaitlin) avoiding the moose chopping action and said, “are you guys going to sit around all day or get to that moose?” We had no choice… off we went to the garage.
I drug my feet out to the garage; quite literally, I drug them through the golden leaves.
Seated at the table with knives in our hands and hindquarters hanging from the beams, Bruce gave a brief explanation of how to cut up the moose before he abandoned us. There was a bowl for the roasts, a bag for hamburger meat and another for sausage, and unwanted pieces would go to the dog mushers.
At first, I was unsure of how to slice and dice, but once we got going, it was great! We cut our way through the afternoon with Prairie Home Companion in the background. I was surprised how much I enjoyed myself. Putting time and energy into food that we would eventually be eating was really cool. And knowing no part would go to waste was even better.
Growing up, my parents always placed an importance on knowing what was in our food, where it came from, and not wasting it. Our backyard was always producing something exciting, whether it was fruits, vegetable or compost. My mom would make everything from scratch, and I can still hear my dad lecturing about reading the labels on food. It took me a few years to before I fully appreciated or understood what they were trying to convey. (I will confess, in elementary school I used to trade my homemade cookies for cheetos and oreos:)
So sitting in the Valda’s garage, cutting up moose meat reminded me of how easy it can be to separate ourselves from the source of our food or even the preparation of it. I like sitting down to eat and knowing I am eating food that is good for me, and I made a small contribution to the meal. 
