Yesterday was a long day; my trip to Yosemite looms only a few days away and it was a ten hour work day. I woke up this morning with a fresh felling, it felt like Yosemite. The air was cool, the breeze crisp, wispy clouds sailed high, and the light from the sun danced off the new growth of the pines. I am quite blessed and incredibly thankful. Every morning I go let our ten chickens out, soon bringing fresh eggs. Summer weather signals the return of fresh picked raspberries from the garden. Young swallows practice their songs as they learn to fly. I live in a truly beautiful place.
I am constantly reminded of the beauty of this world. Every place unique in its own way. The quotes of John Muir seem to sit heavy on my thoughts as I near my return to his beloved Yosemite. For good reason, too. Food must be sorted, gear distributed, maps studied, weather watched. Not a single item on my packing list has been checked. Despite all of this I am calm, focused, and full of anticipation.
I have 60 miles in the backcountry with a journal, camera, and climbing shoes. What can I make of it? Better yet what will it make of me.
The mountains are calling, and I am going.