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Urban life vs rural life essay 300 words
Urban life vs rural life
Urban life vs rural life
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A Simple Comfort The comfort of sitting in our nice warm home in Sauk Rapids is very satisfying. Although my house brings me much luxury, another setting makes me feel very at home. Internet use, city water, a comfortable bed, and 100 miles differentiate the two places, but the environment I am in, the people I am with, and the things I do at the deer shack give me a particular kind of comfort. Sitting in my deer stand on the evening of rifle-hunting opener I was thinking about how much I wanted to rush out of the cold November weather and into our cozy little deer shack. I hurry out of my deer stand and race against the cold to the shack. The short walk from my stand to the shack is quick because no deer were shot tonight. Leaves crunch …show more content…
This was my first actual construction project, and I was proud of it. The shack has a rectangular-shaped base, with half the building being the garage and half being the living area. Looking at the shack now it does seem like much, but the little grey house’s appearance is not as meaningful as the purpose it serves. As I near my destination, my pack and gun become heavier with each step. I hear the mumble of talking from inside the little house, and I take my last breath of the fresh autumn air before I open our garage door to warmth. Now, starting to get feeling in my hands, I set my stunning new Tikka rifle back in its case. Our garage consists of many shelves, a fourwheeler, a few hanging deer ready to be cut up, and miscellaneous junk laying on the floor. Looking to my left in the garage I see the big brown deer hanging next to me. Memories of the big eight pointer I killed that morning flow into my mind. My dreaming is interrupted though, as a whiff of dinner sneaks to my nose. I finish unpacking my cold equipment and then turn towards the door of the living …show more content…
Dad has a knack for cooking at the shack as I do not recall one lousy meal I have eaten here. I step to the bedroom and take off the majority of my layers of clothing quickly so I can join the rest of the group. My dad serves me a plate and I start eating the tender meat as I sit down on the snug couch. I listen to our hunting party’s stories from the evening as I finish up my meal. My brother challenges me to a game of darts as my uncle and dad continue some conversation about a hunting story. Between the thumps of darts striking the board, I catch parts of stories: someone making fun of something, a misfortune of a nonfunctional bullet, a costly mistake by a shooter. The close game nears an end, as I need only a three to win and mockingly smile as my final dart strikes its
It's three o'clock in the morning. I've been sleeping since eight p.m., and now my alarm clock is telling me that it's time to wake up. Most people are sleeping at this hour of the night, but I'm just now waking up to pack up my gear and head into the forest for the morning. Last night I packed my .30-06, tree stand, a small cooler full of food and a rucksack full of hunting equipment including deer scent, camouflage paint and a flashlight. I've been planning a hunt for two weeks, and the weekend has finally come. I get up from bed, shake off the cold of the morning and get ready to leave by four.
As an RN whose specialties have included Medical, Geriatric and Pediatrics, I am drawn to learn more about Katherine Kolcabas Theory of Comfort. It is also the theory from which my organization based its pain and comfort documentation requirements upon.
I rushed out to the truck as the horn blared. I threw my things into the truck and we went off towards the woods. I had to talk to Kevin about where the deer come from when i am sitting in the stand. He told me everything I needed to know about the place less than 10 minutes in the hot and humid truck. Well let's go back to see what led to this.
Family centred care and comfort care theory both work for the well being of patient. Family centred care focus to work with family while providing care for the sick child. Family and pediatric staff works in collaboration to make care plan that works the best for sick child (Coyne, O'Neill, Murphy, & Costello, 2011). Similarly, comfort care theory focus on child’s physical, psychospiritual, sociocultural, and environmental aspects. “When comfort needs are addressed in one context, total comfort is enhanced in the remaining context” (Kolcaba & Dimarco, 2005, p. 190). When nurses apply comfort care theory, it is to achieve holistic care of sick children by focusing on all aspects (Kolcaba
The arrival of winter was well on its way. Colorful leaves had turned to brown and fallen from the branches of the trees. The sky opened to a new brightness with the disappearance of the leaves. As John drove down the country road he was much more aware of all his surroundings. He grew up in this small town and knew he would live there forever. He knew every landmark in this area. This place is where he grew up and experienced many adventures. The new journey of his life was exciting, but then he also had a sick feeling in the pit of his stomach of something not right.
I was too excited to sleep that night so I just stayed up and read. It was finally 4:30 in the morning and time to get up. After a quick bowl of cereal. I jumped in the pickup and drove to where I was going to hunt. It was still dark when I got there so I grabbed my stuff and started up the mountain. I got to where I wanted to glass from, and waited for it to get light, so I could start looking for elk.
With adrenaline pumping through my veins I descend from my concealed position high up in an ancient oak. The adrenaline does not last long though because now I have time sensitive work to complete. First, I draw out my knife, a gift from my grandpa when I started hunting, and make a slit along the stomach of my prey. From this incision steam billows out and hits me in the face almost making me sick. I work on and accomplish the gruesome task at hand. After about twenty minutes of hard work the ground all around me runs red and I know this part of my job has reached a conclusion. Time has come to carry the colossal eighteen point granddaddy of a buck to my old beat up blue F250 truck. This task is nearly impossible and takes a great deal of effort even though the trip is only fifty yards. Once I get the deer home I again feel a great sense of pride. This high should last me until I have to complete the gruesome task of butchering my animal in a few days once the meat sets.
I could hardly sleep because of the anxiety that was taken place within me, but eventually I dosed off and I had the idea of hunting on mind so much; I started to dream about it. Finally, when the time came to get u...
home there. Home is more than just four walls and a roof and to feel
My heart began to beat very rapidly and I breathed deeply to try to calm myself. These deer would step into a clearing in a few feet, and I needed to try to be calm to make a good shot. I picked a spot where I thought that the buck would pass and estimated the distance. I guessed the range to be fifteen yards and waited. I let the doe pass through my ...
They head to his winter retreat. Along the way, he hits a deer, and when he disposes of the deer’s body he thinks he hears something out there.
The deer runs off. The men are pissed off with losing their game. Another scream occurs as terrifying as the first.
The ruckus from the bottom of the truck is unbearable, because of the noise and excessive shaking. As we slowly climbed the mountain road to reach our lovely cabin, it seemed almost impossible to reach the top, but every time we reached it safely. The rocks and deep potholes shook the truck and the people in it, like a paint mixer. Every window in the truck was rolled down so we could have some leverage to hold on and not loose our grip we needed so greatly. The fresh clean mountain air entered the truck; it smelt as if we were lost: nowhere close to home. It was a feeling of relief to get away from all the problems at home. The road was deeply covered with huge pines and baby aspen trees. Closely examining the surrounding, it looks as if it did the last time we were up here.
It was finally fall break. I was visiting my grandma for a few days. Well past dinnertime, I pulled up to the white stately home in northern rural Iowa. I parked my car, unloaded my bag and pillow, and crunched through the leaves to the front porch. The porch was just how I had seen it last; to the right, a small iron table and chairs, along with an old antique brass pole lamp, and on the left, a flowered glider that I have spent many a summer afternoon on, swaying back and forth, just thinking.
I ran down the steps as fast as I could, like a cheetah chasing its prey. I almost fell down the steps because my adrenaline was so high. I ran to the deer and grabbed the smooth, but rough pointy antlers. (Almost scraping my hands up). I heard the clicking of the camera, so I knew my dad was taking pictures of me. After taking 10,000 pictures, my dad and I lifted the deer into the back of the fourwheeler. We drove back to the garage. We set the deer on the table, and I started gutting it out. Blood squirted out, as If I was getting hit by the jets at a car wash. After all the bad meat was out of the deer, we hung the deer up, (Except the deer is cut apart) like a scarecrow would on a wooden post. When the deer was done draining out, we took it to Gary’s. He cut up the deer as easy as slicing through cheese. After the good meat was out of the deer, we brought it to Maplewoods to get processed. I couldn't wait for my taste buds to experience the juicy, tender venison meat. Once I got my lips on the meat, I felt accomplished and glad I sat in the cold all day. I thanked my dad for hunting with me, and I thanked myself for not shaking when I shot the