Bridget and I step outside of the Best Little Trailer for some fresh air.
Spike is still in bed, fast asleep. With his poor hearing, he’s unaware of our departure. I don’t intend to go far, just wander around the campsite and look at the creek with my camera, ready for anything that catches my interest. I leave the door open for Spike to join us when he wakes up.
Well, first thing you know, Bridget and I are on our way up Dandelion Hill.
I bring my camp chair. I still don’t have much stamina, which may be the altitude. I don’t know. Even if it is the altitude, we’re staying. We like it here.
Further up the hill I see what look like white stars low to the ground and waving in the breeze.
“Hey, Bridge. Let’s check that out.”
I plod further up the hill with Bridget right behind me.
I discover, much to my delight, white columbine flowers. Up to this point, I’ve only seen them in books. They’re larger than I imagined, about 3-4 inches across.
I see some more, we go take a look . . . I see some more, we go over there. You get the picture. I zig-zag all over, same as the day I went nuts looking for red cactus blooms.
Satisfied I’ve got the photos I want, I go back to the chair and plop down.
A cloud of dust hovers above the road that climbs the mountain. A rumble and the beep-beep of a back-up signal reveals road work in progress.
Well, I was going to take a drive up that way today, but I think I’ll wait until the road is fixed.
As I’m sitting in the chair among the dandelions, watching the front-end loader repeatedly scrape the road and dump its load, I hear a strange cry, like a whimper, only louder, if that’s possible.
What IS that? I strain my ear to that direction.
I grab my chair and hustle on down the hill.
Bridget quickly takes the lead. What in the world could be wrong? I follow the sound to inside the BLT. Spike rushes to meet us at the door.
“Spikey! What’s wrong, little boy?” I make a visual scan. He looks fine. “Did you miss us?”
Bridget hops into the BLT.
She gives Spike happy kisses on his face, prancing around, tail spinning. I love it when she does that! I pat, scratch, and rub Spike’s body, sending loud words of love into his ear.
Spike cheerfully barks for his breakfast.
Well, that was odd. Usually he doesn’t give a hoot where we are, how we’re doing, or whether we ever come back. There’s a tender heart underneath that aloof manner. Or maybe he’s just hungry . . .
This is the first overcast day since we arrived last Monday.
I’m keeping an eye of the sky in the event storm clouds move in. Take a look at all the dry timber on the mountain behind our camp. Yikes.
You can bet, if we have an electrical storm here, I’ll interrupt my napping to be on the look-out for any hint of fire. Just another responsibility of the safety-conscious boondocker! Dang, I bet dead fir trees burn very quickly.
Location, location, location!
All I’m doing these days is sleeping, eating, drinking, hovering over a laptop, and stumbling around with a camera in hand. Doing nothing is enough for me when the doing occurs in a beautiful, peaceful, natural setting like this.
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