Saturday, July 16, 2016

The numbers are irrelevant.

6 days in July.  A vacation of sorts.

I could lay it all out by the numbers.  Tell you that we drove 10 hours one-way to do 6 floats and 3 bike rides, while meeting 47 new people and averaging 26.7mpg.




That we snarfed 12 breakfast purritos, 5 gucci salami's, 4 bags of chips, 3 pounds of cheese, 2 boxes of wine, and one tub of chocolate toffee waffles.




I could attempt to quantify the volume of wood potentially 'in play' on each of the creeks we ran.  Or the vertical feet of fall line trail we scorched on Lithium.




I could list the gazillions of flowers and mere millions of bugs as evidence of, uh, something.







Might somehow be able to put a number to the frequency with which we caught eddies or surfed waves.








Could probably quantify how 20 seconds can seem like so much more:











But the numbers, in this case, simply miss the point.







How can you put a number to the group glow felt when closing a sunset loop on Parallel Trail?







Of what value is it to say "I swam X times and rolled X times" when the specific lessons imparted by each require deliberately stepping out of your comfort zone for the simple purpose of learning?








What number could you possibly wrap around getting to be in a place like this, with people like these?




How can you quantify a grin like this?




The simple answer is that you simply can't.

Butbutbut!

An inability to append numbers to a fantastic 6 days does not in any way diminish the quality of those days.

Conversely, to my simple mind, that fact serves to point up how priceless and unquantifiable they actually were.

Thursday, June 9, 2016

A quick glance back, before facing the music.

Summer.  






Technically not here yet by the calendar, but step outside anytime in daylight hours and it'd be hard to argue otherwise.  Hot, and dry.  And hot.














A deliciously cool, moist spring lingered until the last of May, showering us literally (and the other way too) with luscious green grasses and intense displays of wildflowers.  No two springs are ever alike in that sense, but the grasses far surpassed the blossoms this year, to our surprise and delight.








About a week ago the first warm temps finally hit, and have continued to intensify daily.  Soil is drying out, flowers have largely wilted and faded.  Jeny and I decided to step out for a leisurely evening ride, the main point of which was to savor, and bid farewell to, the luxuriant greenery.








Peeps that live in less arid places will no doubt look at these pics and wonder where the alleged greenery is, this lusciousness for which I am so gaga.






My only explanation is that things are relative.  This place is a desert, and the difference between now and a month from now is difficult to comprehend if you live someplace with months and months of green, or evergreen. 




96* in the forecast for tomorrow.  98* for the weekend.  We embrace that reality for a few lingering months in exchange for half a year of nirvana spread over spring and fall, and the gamble of dry, mild winters that don't seem so mild, or dry, anymore.

That, and we flee to the mountains every opportunity, all summer long 






So long, spring.  See you next time.

Saturday, May 21, 2016

A deep breath.

June.  Mere days away.


With it comes heat, dust, hot dusty wind, allergies, backtobacktoback weekend roadtrips, and an increasing inability to find enough time to savor all of the above.



^ The dregs of May...




Knowing what's coming, we opted to catch our breath and stay close to home this weekend.  Time spent bonding with the new feline boss was one priority, kicking around in the jungle that is our front yard another.








Botanists we are not, but having some variety at close hand for scrutiny is bringing us more in touch with the world at large.  
















Stealth skeeter.  I flicked it into a spiderweb right after snapping this shot.




I spy, with my little eye...




Thanks for checkin' in.