Who is that couple? & Paradise Lost

A reader submitted the illustration shown today. The opinion of the reader was that it was likely I had been the model for the "wolfish looking gentleman," but wondered who might have been the model for the young lady. Well, my suspicion is that the illustration is very old and was based on some story involving Fram the First. Which means, of course, I have no direct knowledge of the identity of the young lady. It is too bad the illustration is not in color. I think color might reveal more clues regarding both these individuals.

Paradise Lost ....

Part I:

In one of my other "incarnations" (not in another time, this was only a few years ago), I was not living in a metro area. I was living in the country, not in a wilderness setting, but in a quiet, somewhat secluded place, in a nice house surrounded by seven acres of partially-cleared woodland.

The house was atop a ridge line, and there was a clear view at least a mile or two in any direction and five or six miles in a couple of directions. The view was of woodland and water, with an occasional house on another hilltop and some lake homes three or four miles off across the water.

My house was the last one on a mile and one-half of private road. It was about a quarter-mile to the next nearest home. My acreage was designed so that no one could ever build closer to me than that quarter-mile on two sides, while the other two sides were undeveloped federal woodland.

The only negative part of the location (to me) was that it was not actually on the water. But, I could live with it (or, rather, without it). There was a state-operated boat launch ramp and a public swimming beach about two and one-half miles away and out of sight from my house.

In the morning, I could get up, grab a cup of coffee and, if I wished, go out on the second floor deck and fire off 10 rounds (or 1,000) at a series of targets I had set up at varying distances out to about 40 yards. I had a 60-yard range set up in another area, and a walk-through-the-woods combat course. See me smiling?

It was a rare day when there were not deer and wild turkeys waltzing through the yard. Rabbits, squirrels, dozens of bird varieties including eagles were present year-round. In the spring, millions (I would estimate) of geese would fly over going north. For three days or more, night and day, as far as a person could see in all directions, there would be geese in flight. Monarch butterflies came through on migration in late August or early September. For a night or two, the leaves on trees would be replaced by butterflies.

Coyotes passed through the yard regularly. A few times, under a full moon in winter, I was awakened by a chorus of howling coyotes, who had literally surrounded the house and were only a few feet away. Mountain lions occasionally were sighted in the area, but never any by me (unfortunately).

For the uninitiated who might be wondering how I could be spewing hot lead from my deck and have such a vast number of critters hanging out, the answer is simple. It seems most birds and many animals know the difference between target shooting and hunting. Seriously. I could be at a bench shooting, and 10 yards behind me, birds would be flocking at the feeders. I could quit shooting, walk into the house, look out a window and see three or four does with their fawns come walking through the yard.

Anyway, it no longer is mine. What I considered to be a refuge from the world might be considered isolation from the world by another. I can understand that, but I wish "another" would have figured it out beforehand rather than after the fact.

Music Note: Listening to Metallica
Specifically, "Garage, Inc." ....
Some out of sequence lines from "Whiskey in the Jar:"

She swore that she'd love me, no, never would she leave me
But the devil take that woman, for you know she tricked me easy

Being drunk and weary I went to Molly's chamber
Taking money with me and I never knew the danger

Now some men like the fishing and some men like the fowling
And some men like to hear, to hear the cannonball a-roaring
Me I like sleeping, especially in my Molly's chamber
But here I am in prison, here I am with a ball and chain

Musha rain dum-a-do-dum-a-da
Whack for my daddy-o
Whack for my daddy-o
There's whiskey in the jar-o
Whiskey in the jar-o

Musha rain dum-a-do-dum-a-da
Musha rain dum-a-do-dum-a-da
Musha rain dum-a-do-dum-a-da
Musha rain dum-a-do-dum-a-da