Current news:
"It was a dark and stormy night ... " Well, it wasn't until Murphy and his laws stepped in again. There was only a 20% chance of thunderstorms called for today. They did not arrive until a few minutes ago which, of course, was not long after Mark asked if I would do the generator shut-down tonight. The heavy rains came without warning so there was no chance to slip out before the ground became slick. I can picture myself tripping into the drainage ditch, doing the splits in the mud and bunging up my bad knee so there is not much incentive to rush out there now. The only other incentive might be to avoid losing the computer in a lightning strike, OH, like that one ... F-L-A-S-H ! ! ! ... one ... two .... KERASSHHH!!! Certainly got the kitty boys' attention that time. So, here I am waiting out the worst of it. Can't dance, might as well write a new blog entry.
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The kitty boys were not to be denied their walk any longer, not this morning. They had seen the dry ground from the big window, felt the unusual warm press of the sun in their fur and they now sat like tall teapots in front of the door as if intense stares would make it open.
With Mark off on a supply run, I would be alone for most of the day and I had not planned anything too exhaustive. Neither of us have recovered our energy since that last bout of illness. The cats' glares were starting to get to me so I finally opened the door to the porch. They both slid outdoors, down the steps and over to the moving trailer in a swift and mercurial motion. They were on a recognizable mission so I found my rubber boots and headed over to the mesa wall. Sure enough, they were on my heels and soon we were all, Brou included, up on the first bench (first lower step of the mesa). We had hiked along this bench many times and it was Beautiful Dave The Cat who decided that we should assault the second bench today. By then we were well west of our known trail up but we started up anyway. It required a little more athletics than normal, a little more energy than I had hoped to invest but the trio were thrilled with the adventure.
We were now so close to the top but the last barrier to success was a solid wall of sandstone over ten feet high. We skirted along its base, hopping from boulder to boulder or occasionally sliding down boulder faces as the ledge changed levels abruptly. It was Brou who found the final path to the top, although in a disturbing way. I happened to look over just as he made a leap over four feet straight up. He missed the unseen target, his toenails audibly scribing the rock, and he fell back down and tumbled for several feet. Fortunately, the ledge was wide enough that he didn't turn into a rolling stone and end up back down at the first bench. As usual, he was back on his feet instantly and grinning merrily. It reminded me of our last outing when it was I who lost footing on some dried leaves, fell right square on my ... dignity ... and then did a lumpy side roll down through the rocks and sticks for fifteen or twenty feet before inertia let loose its claim on me. It's funny how, even though you are miles from anyone, one of the first things you do is look around to see if anyone saw you perform that most undignified descent.
My achy hip and knees winced at that recollection but we were all ready to inspect Brou's potential path. Before I could boost him up, Brou made a second lunge and cleared it this time. Dave and Ming followed immediately behind and now all were staring back down at me impatiently. Not to be the poor sport, I kneed, butted and dragged my ample carcass up, through and over the last boulders. The view was a breath-taking reward. The flat plane of our normal canyon bottom existence expanded upwards and outwards as new mesas and far skies were revealed. The ribbon of our canyon and creek extended for miles more beyond our normal perspective. Even the kitty boys sat down on the rock ledge to contemplate this new view of our world. I cannot describe the feeling of peace and contentment to quietly sit with friends, large or small, and simply exist in such a beautiful place.
I always let the kitty boys set the pace and eventually Ming initiated the homeward descent. As much as he fusses if he thinks we are going on a hike without him, he loves the return trip best. With the help of gravity, it wasn't long before we were all back home at the rat.
As I sat collapsed in the wing chair, I heard a familiar noise just outside the open window and looked up. The first hummingbird of the year had returned, looking for last year's feeder. I realized that even the feeder bracket had disappeared during the re-siding project and felt like a complete heel as he flew away a few seconds later. I curtailed my rest and went in search of the feeders. They are now back in place and ready for the hordes to return. I had once read an e-mail about how 'they' send out scouts so you have to get the feeders up early. Good heavens, what utter poppycock. By that comment, you'd assume that hummingbirds traveled in massive divisions like the U.S. cavalry. Hardly. If you miss the first ones, there will always be more showing up later in ones and twos.
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Humor of the day (this one's from Virgil's Mom)
Take 60 seconds to try this. It's too amusing not to.
1. go to www.google.com
2. click on "maps"
3. click on "get directions"
4. type "New York City" in the first box (the "from" box)
5. type "London, England" in the second box (the "to" box)
6. hit "get directions"
7. scroll down to step #24 (this number might change however so look around in that vicinity if the gag line isn't apparent)