All winter, I’ve religiously crunched deadlines and worked at my desk while it rained and drizzled outside my window. Day after day, I commuted to my home office, coffee in hand, to put words into a manuscript, sipping the bitter, black liquid in between paragraphs and prepositions. I love my work and I love my coffee; a perfect union. But, winter is not my season, so I write and fill my mind with trail descriptions, which instantly place me in summer.
Lately, the snow has started to melt in the high country. The bears, like me, are emerging from the den. I find myself antsy and filled with excitement as I look forward to the future. My Wonderland permit was approved and near the summer’s end, I’ll huff it around the subalpine meadows and glacial toes of The Grandfather, again. This will be my 10th time in total and I still can’t get enough. I’m busy cooking up freezer bag foods (thanks trailcooking.com) and trying new recipes for another long trek on the PCT. I’m looking forward to a couple of upcoming trips, including one to Moab and southern Idaho for some mountain biking, climbing and hiking. My winter delirium has been shaken and my eyes are opened. The fun has already started.
A recent camping trip to Sun Lakes State Park produced several fish on the fly and an opportunity to spend some time with the old-man-dog. Our big fella is getting older and struggling more day-by-day, so each moment is precious.
We’ve been rock climbing several times, most recently to Tieton River Rocks, which is one of my favorite places to visit. I’m always blown away by the life in the desert and the forgiving landscape when graced by warm sunrays.
We’ve rattled around on the mountain bikes enjoying several days cruising the single-track of a local park. I’ve spent some time on trails local and remote enjoying the new seeds of the grass widow and buttercup.
I watched a pileated woodpecker enjoy the mealworm suet and witnessed a small flock of goldfinches flitting around a sapling.
How about you? What’s your season? Can you hear that? It’s Reveille, being played loudly on nature’s bugle.
Yawn, stretch. I’m up. I’m up.