C
Cowboy
Guest
The place is the same now as when the first fur trapper made his camp there. It is surrounded by frosted gray rock peaks rimmed in pines with grass meadows that stretch down the long ridges. Icy clear little streams fed by melt-water that spring from the ground at the foot of cliffs trickle down through the rotted deadfalls, loosened rock and pine needles. Down lower in the draws where the timber grows tall, the grass is almost waist high around the bogs and pools.
Grouse walk along the moss and rocks and downed trees like dignitaries. Squirrels chatter and scold at every living thing as they bound from tree to tree ever watchful of the pine marten. Whiskey jacks swoop and glide among the boughs asking questions to each other and whoever will listen. Bears sleep like drunken sailors curled up in the cool shade. Elk lay among the fern and moss with the cows and their long slender necks up and ears splayed out in surveillance but trusting that another keeps watch while they grab a wink.
My camp is at the edge of the meadow and the warm fall sun pushes the morning?s frost back to the north as it retreats to the shadows of the timber. The sun is not harsh but brings the color of things out in a soft glow. The sounds are the trickling water from the creek just below and the wind in the pine boughs as they bend and sway above. The temperature is just cool enough that even though I am at work splitting kindling I still need a wool shirt. The horses are at peace here with no bugs to bother them as they take small hobbled hops in the meadow where the grass is still green.
Mother nature is smiling today and it is a gift. But like everything there is a balance and the scale will swing. Tomorrow may be cold and snowy and put a sense of urgency on things. We will take it now and we will take it when we can for there will be a time when time and age will take us away from the best place on earth.
Grouse walk along the moss and rocks and downed trees like dignitaries. Squirrels chatter and scold at every living thing as they bound from tree to tree ever watchful of the pine marten. Whiskey jacks swoop and glide among the boughs asking questions to each other and whoever will listen. Bears sleep like drunken sailors curled up in the cool shade. Elk lay among the fern and moss with the cows and their long slender necks up and ears splayed out in surveillance but trusting that another keeps watch while they grab a wink.
My camp is at the edge of the meadow and the warm fall sun pushes the morning?s frost back to the north as it retreats to the shadows of the timber. The sun is not harsh but brings the color of things out in a soft glow. The sounds are the trickling water from the creek just below and the wind in the pine boughs as they bend and sway above. The temperature is just cool enough that even though I am at work splitting kindling I still need a wool shirt. The horses are at peace here with no bugs to bother them as they take small hobbled hops in the meadow where the grass is still green.
Mother nature is smiling today and it is a gift. But like everything there is a balance and the scale will swing. Tomorrow may be cold and snowy and put a sense of urgency on things. We will take it now and we will take it when we can for there will be a time when time and age will take us away from the best place on earth.
