Last Sunday, Jan. 14, we had a bluebird sky. The air was crisp. Most of the snow in the valley was melted. Petey and I needed an adventure.
I guess you could call me an outdoors writer. Not that I write about outdoor living or outdoor sports, but that I love to write when I'm outdoors. I'm more relaxed and in the quietness of some of my favorite spots, I can hear my story voices.
Petey and I headed for canyon country, but I decided I wanted to take one particular road that would take us "on top." A wary glance acknowledged the snow on top, but the conditions were such I was sure the snow would be melted enough for us to travel safely. With 4WD we wiggled up a shadowed canyon road, but when we reached the top, this was the view.
A rock pile beckoned, and we hiked the short distance. I settled down into the radiating warmth of the rocks while Petey played in the snow. Cocooned in silence, my words spilled onto the page. I was in bliss. After a time the squeal of a hawk made me look up for Petey. He could easily be hawk-bait.
Whenever I sit still, Petey takes his post as The Watcher, my guard. Whether I'm at home, or driving, or anywhere else, I am his job and he watches over me. Two factors must be in place for this to happen: 1. I must be sitting still and 2. No squirrels should be in a 1 mile radius. If there's a squirrel around, I'm on my own.
I sat in quiet and enjoyed the wispy rainbow of a sun dog caught in the perfect light of afternoon sun and ice crystal air.
I picked up my pen again and wrote until the chilling angle of the dropping sun sent a shiver over me. It was time to go, before the road iced over.
A 50-something woman comes home to a place she's never been before.