I've made all the purchases that were on my list, packed only what I need, selected the books to take, my journal, colored pencils, new CDs for the journey . . . for tonight I will ride in the darkness to the same place I slept in November, 2008. I will step out of the car and make my usual observation, "Listen to the quiet!" And then I am sure I will cry. But not for long.
This campsite lies in close proximity to the deserted Aiken Mine - the site I always refer to as the baby giants' preschool. For the area surrounding the mine has so much machinery, so many trucks, so much debris it looks as if the school bell rang and all the baby giants went home, leaving their toys strewn about . . .
The coyote gourds will abound in all phases of development from wet and deep green to nearly white coyote gourd maracas. I'll pick some to add to my collection and I'll carry them home so carefully.
For just a little while I will hear no telephones, converse with no general public, fume about nothing in Las Vegas or look at my watch. I will eat simply and hike in the sun. I will take photographs for home dudes and collect rocks for Matt. I'll hope for a tarantula sighting. I may even get a little sunkissed since I live so much in the dark.
I'm going camping. My heart is full to overflowing.
Photo credit (at the baby giants' preschool):
J. D. Morehouse
In my ears right now: The clock ticking too slowly. I want to get out of here!
Something that charmed me: Last night I got out "the basket". The one that contains the cleaned and well folded camping clothes. I may have the ugliest camping clothes in the world. Mismatched, funky colors, zipper pulls bent and crooked. I will even confess to owning a pair of camping pants with no zipper and an elastic waistband, just like grannies wear. But I have world class boots and socks, plenty of warm layers . . . . I'm going camping.