I like car tail lights. More to follow!

Shoshone Falls, Idaho

Camping with my friend and my late wife. North California. Dry camping. His Jeep, my Tear.
All that is left is the teardrop. Everything else is gone. 

routine amuk

It was supposed to be routine.

You check in in the morning, they do their thing and you go home maybe that afternoon, or the next day at the latest.

The evening before I sent an email: “I know this is a pretty low risk procedure, but I am concerned.” The answer came back with an email grin: “After I recover a bit, how about a trip to Zion this summer in our tears.” Since we both own teardrop camper trailers, the idea hit a great spot.

The next morning I got a phone call: “He did not make it.”

My hiking partner (before a heart attack), camping buddy, co-teacher in a church class and one of my two dearest friends: gone.

I felt empty. I still feel empty.

It is so damned permanent.

Once upon a time someone brought this Chevrolet pickup home to show his woman. It might have been mother, sister, wife or sweetheart, but once it was new and beautiful.
When this picture was taken it was not beautiful, but it was still functional.
I am still in the ugly but somewhat useful state of life!

ageing

For years I have been told I do not look nearly as old as I really was.

Usually the number was 10 or 15 years younger. I had a full head of hair that was dark brunette. I felt  younger and that added to the myth.

Then about the time Miriam died my hair started turning gray. Not a lot and still not a lot, but not that dark brunette color any longer. My beard and mustache had long gone gray, but I wore them any way.

Now I notice little things. Nothing big and nothing fatal, just little things that remind me that father time can be pushed a little but he is still there looking over my shoulder.

I have a family member, that though a few years younger than me, has shown signs of age for some time, but this person is not going to admit anything. “There ain’t nothin’ wrong with me.” But there is and there is something wrong with me (maybe a lot of somethings).

After Miriam died I should have thought of downsizing from my small house. Instead I remarried (not sorry for that one), and we bought a house twice as large as my small house. This house came with half an acre of dirt.


Right now I am doing pretty well. I am making progress on all the projects around here, some of them are pretty ambitious. But I can feel subtle little things that remind me that time indeed is marching on.

The inevitable downsizing is coming.  One day our life possessions will fit into a single dresser drawer.

Sand dunes in the late summer.
For many years this has been a favorite spring camping destination.