Tuesday, January 1, 2013
What to do on a windy, winter day
I remember a time as a kid in the 1950s, I thought, “Gee, I wonder if I’ll live to see, uh, 2012.”
I grabbed a pencil and did a little arithmetic (future math teacher that I was). My calculations completed, I exclaimed, “Oh, gosh, I’ll be so OLD!”
(Remember when kids said words like gosh? And gee-willikers? Now it’s what the . . . ?)
Well, I made it to 2012 and beyond!
And apparently you did, too, or you wouldn’t be reading this. Congratulations and Happy New Year!
What did RVSue and her canine crew do on the very first day of 2013?
More winter activity . . .
After the usual morning routine, I go outside and dump some birdseed under the scraggly tree. The only visitors have been ground-feeders. I guess I should clarify that I’m talking about birds, not neighbors.
Not one bird has perched on the feeder!
So I give up and throw the seed on the ground. It pains me greatly to do so. This isn’t your run-of-the-mill finch food. This dang stuff is GOURMET. I don’t know why I sprung for the good stuff, but I did and there it is on the ground.
I go inside and get online.
Uh . . . Is it time for lunch yet?
A few minutes later I look up from the monitor.
What is this! It’s a dadburn Chipmunk Convention out there!
Out of the earth throughout the desert come rodents (Let’s face it. Just because they’re cute and have a stripe and fluffy tail, that doesn’t erase the fact that they’re rodents.)
I study the flurry of activity and a pattern emerges.
You could be watching paint dry.
Why, the little buggers are filling their cheeks and then ferrying the gourmet food over to their holes in the ground.
Hey! Do you have any idea how much that cost? Leave some for the birds!
I might as well stick a funnel in each chipmunk hole and pour it in. Talk about money down a rat hole.
Bridget, Spike, and I take off for Yuma.
I go the long way to Interstate 8, taking the dirt road that winds through Sidewinder Pass. I notice several opportunities for secluded camping, only a few of them occupied. Right before we arrive at the center of the earth . . . um . . . How can you have a center located on the surface of a sphere? Oh well, anyway . . . That’s what the sign says, The Center of the Earth, so I’m going with it.
Right before Earth’s center, we come upon an unusual sight.
I walk over to take a closer look.
Hmm . . . concentric circles, center of the earth, a pile of quartz, cherubim, everything perfectly maintained. A grave site? Sacred ground? A hidden vortex? Someone went to a lot of trouble and took great care.
I take a photo and leave without stepping on any of it.
As for Yuma, well, it has a personality like no other city I’ve ever been in.
I don’t know if that’s a good or a bad thing. I do know I’m glad it exists for a whole lot of people escaping winter. Wall-to-wall RVs! The PTV carries us across town on the interstate until those big blue letters appear . . . Wal-Mart! Down the ramp we go! I want to replenish our food supply with fresh veggies and milk.
One of the many reasons I love having a travel trailer is seeing it when we arrive home.
Every time that little egg-home comes into view, I smile. Home sweet home!
Groceries put away, I take the crew on a long walk.
I feel guilty because they were so excited when I opened up the PTV for our jaunt to get groceries and then I didn’t let them out until we were home again. The winding, narrow washes are all over the place and they make good paths for walks. The sand is gentle on paws, for one thing.
That evening I watch television.
Of course, I do. It’s New Year’s Eve! I endure watching the celebration going on with great enthusiasm in NYC (meh) which, of course, occurs before midnight due to the time difference. How convenient for an early-to-bed, early-to-rise person like myself!
At midnight, I hear a few booms. I rise up on one elbow, peer out the window, and see a pathetic excuse for fireworks over by the mountains. Is that all ya’ got, pal?
Hello, 2013!
rvsue
rvsue and her canine crew 