I felt bad about putting the burden of decision-making on the visiting Nurse—for all of about 2 seconds.
And then, I was only glad since I had secretly hoped that a southerly route was in the offing anyhow.
It seemed like one of those nights where organization is a little jagged—droppings and indecisions were the theme, although no one could complain about the views: a city bedecked in spring splendor under bold skies that filtered a golden sunset through cottony clouds of persimmon and apricot.
The waxing crescent moon smiled a sideways smile in the west as twilight blued the snow-covered Olympics periwinkle and powder.
A shortcut took just as long as the usual route although it did provide the opportunity for gravel and a close-up look at our civic failure to combat homelessness. A short descent was enjoyed just long enough to occasion an unnecessary climb and then there were those who preferred to get rad while the skater dude yelled for bikes to get it out of their systems.
We bombed down the favored bombing run and corkscrewed over the traffic; divergent routes were taken to the old-growth park and the firepit had to be backtracked to—and not just by those who weren’t as under the influence of leftover time trial cookies as yours truly.
Somewhat impressively, ignition was achieved by the perseverance and lung power of Fancy Fred, no fossil fuels required—(unless you count the leftover plastic wrap from the bundles)—which made for a cozy fire of just the right size for the size of the group.
Soon enough, several stragglers straggled in and almost concurrently, the early departing departed early.
Saltwater, freshwater, mountains, lakes, an urban core with plenty of bars, giant trees, gravel paths, not a single drop of rain all night long; stories from the forest, anecdotes about the kitchen and finding things at last.
If you could live anywhere you wanted, why live anywhere else?
And then, I was only glad since I had secretly hoped that a southerly route was in the offing anyhow.
It seemed like one of those nights where organization is a little jagged—droppings and indecisions were the theme, although no one could complain about the views: a city bedecked in spring splendor under bold skies that filtered a golden sunset through cottony clouds of persimmon and apricot.
The waxing crescent moon smiled a sideways smile in the west as twilight blued the snow-covered Olympics periwinkle and powder.
A shortcut took just as long as the usual route although it did provide the opportunity for gravel and a close-up look at our civic failure to combat homelessness. A short descent was enjoyed just long enough to occasion an unnecessary climb and then there were those who preferred to get rad while the skater dude yelled for bikes to get it out of their systems.
We bombed down the favored bombing run and corkscrewed over the traffic; divergent routes were taken to the old-growth park and the firepit had to be backtracked to—and not just by those who weren’t as under the influence of leftover time trial cookies as yours truly.
Somewhat impressively, ignition was achieved by the perseverance and lung power of Fancy Fred, no fossil fuels required—(unless you count the leftover plastic wrap from the bundles)—which made for a cozy fire of just the right size for the size of the group.
Soon enough, several stragglers straggled in and almost concurrently, the early departing departed early.
Saltwater, freshwater, mountains, lakes, an urban core with plenty of bars, giant trees, gravel paths, not a single drop of rain all night long; stories from the forest, anecdotes about the kitchen and finding things at last.
If you could live anywhere you wanted, why live anywhere else?
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