There wasn’t a lot of that springtime mainstay balsamorhiza sagittata along the path last Saturday except for one particular draw which I must say was exceptionally pretty in the evening, owing to the emerald green grass. There’s an underground spring hereabouts which is the source of that tinkling creek which seeps out of the ground like a miracle. Beavered in vain to capture these flowers with uplands in the distance for a background characteristic of the local scenery but I was foiled- damn that wonderful bracing air swooping into the canyon! This was one of my last attempts to outwit the wind and have I mentioned the ticks, yet? No booby prize for me!
Adam had journeyed ahead by this time. He was a wonderful companion all the day long but waiting around for your dad while he’s stumbling around taking pictures gets to be a little like watching paint dry when you’re eleven years old and besides maybe he just wanted to lose himself in the imagining of his latest space opera concerto, oftentimes I’ll catch him conducting furiously and it’s the cutest thing but I have to act as though I haven’t noticed because he takes great offense to being observed like some kind of zoo animal. Ultimately he would end up patiently waiting for me down at the river, for the better part of an hour. When I found him he was luxuriating with his shoes off although he dashed under the railroad bridge to wait like some kind of troll so he could feel the evening freight train as it thundered through. Before we headed home, he and I found that lonesome willow a mile or two down the canyon. Our hopes for a short stroll up to it were dashed by barbed wire and cows with sharp horns.