Back to July & Back

 

First and only time I've gone to the cabin this year, due to employment, hospitals, and such.
The mountains are turning red now, and I'm wondering if I will be able to go up again before snow ruins everything, as it most of the time does.

This week has consisted of: surprise visits, yogurt, bagels, walking, developing artistry, poetry stubbornness, home-comings, contained thought, walking, walking, and stairs.

Dwindling

To the cabin: 

From a dwindling 

Summer.

A Fourth, Part Two

So you know in the cartoons, when a bear disturbs a beehive, and the bees swarm the bear and chase him all over the place? My cabin was like that.

Minus the beehive, minus the bear, and minus the bees. But then, plus mosquitoes.

It was ridiculous. I would look down and they were covering my pants. Sometimes I thought I was wearing a swarm of mosquitoes. They'd buzz all around me, smacking their little straw lips. And they buzz in my ears and I hated it. Because, hey, I don't know how to speak mosquito.

I was destroyed. Death by West Nile carriers. Even when I had bug repellent on me.


Oh, and also, how do you feel about ticks? Because I am scared of them. And one night I went to take a shower [yes, hot, running water at my cabin; a recent and lovely addition], and I announced to my family, "If I find a tick on me, I'm going to scream."

So as I was preparing to take a shower, I looked down and the cutest little arachnid was crawling upon my clothing. Cute, meaning disturbing. Arachnid, meaning a fellow named Tick. Clothing, meaning my underwear.

Yes, it is true.

And so I died. Twice.

And the tick died. Once. By being flushed down the toilet.

Goodbye, Tick.

A Fourth

On Sunday evening and for the first time this summer, I tagged along with my family and began trekking up into the ridges which were caused by years of movement across the earth's crust. In other words, I went to my cabin for a few days.

The car I rode in was a little Nissan. And the dirt road leading to our cabin doesn't really care for small cars. So we stopped at the main gate of the property and waited for my parents to come so we could hitch a ride in the truck.

At this gate, however, was a new little friend. A little puppy sort of friend. Just lying in the shade. Sadly, said puppy did not seem to be in the greatest shape. We knew that it was likely a sheepdog puppy. Because there are sheep roaming around the mountains. With dogs herding them. But this puppy was basically acting like it was starving. It was pathetic and heart-wrenching. So we waited with this puppy [a female which my older brother considerately named Li'l Brudder], but the truck to pick us up was nowhere in sight.

And so my older siblings contemplated. And decided that we would venture on the rest of the dirt road in the little car.

But Li'l Brudder was still lying pathetically and motionless by the gate. So we did what any law-abiding citizen would do; we stole the puppy.

But don't worry. The puppy promptly received food and water. And more food. And then it still wouldn't move. But my parents weren't too happy with their children running around like puppy bandits. So we drove down and returned the baby canine to its mother. And to the sheep. To my dismay.

And when we dropped her off, she even stood up for the first time. All by herself.

And you know that movie? Fox and the Hound? When the lady leaves the fox in the middle of the road and drives away? And it's the saddest thing ever? 

It wasn't like that at all. 

Because Li'l Brudder has her own family. And she's a sheep dog. So please. Dry your tears.