The pounding of What do I want went still in her breast. It didn't matter what she chose. The world was what it was, a place with its own rules of hunger and satisfaction. Creatures lived and mated and died , they came and went, as surely as summer did. They would go their own ways, of their own accord. Barbara Kingsolver
It's another beautiful, dry day up top. The high yesterday reached 40 degrees. The overnight low was 26 degrees. It was 33 degrees and clear at 7am observation. The mountain received no new precipitation. There may still be a little bit of ice in portions of the trail, but nothing to lose sleep over just yet. Get out and enjoy these trails before they become truly wintry!
I spent yesterday afternoon on my porch reading. To be honest, I was mostly reading but wasn't too committed with my attention. It was one of those days. The clouds kept me company and they were as lively as good conversation with an old friend. I do not know if there is anyone more enchanted by the Great Cloud's many costumes than I am. Even the best written words on a page are no match for the cloud factory - no offense, Mrs. Kingsolver! The afternoon drifted away until a heavy pea soup fog settled in for the evening. My fancy two hundred lumen headlamp got me maybe ten feet of visibility. It brought back memories of my 3rd season, when a 'problem' bear was wandering the mountain. I saw him next to my cabin in a sister fog and figured I was finally losing it. I walked within ten feet of him before realizing he wasn't a figment of my imagination. I'd never been close enough to smell a real animal. The clouds weren't obscuring as many future memories this time around.
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