First, a new short piece: This came directly from my Muse as I had planned on writing about something completely different.
holding open the way
one stands and waits
who will enter here?
what will come of my efforts
at keeping the passage clear?
some would say i waste my energy
let it close they say
no one will care
but if even only one wishes to pass here
it is enough for me
remaining firm and waiting
one hand reaching out
the other pointing the way
do you have a need to go there?
i will wait for you
in love and hope
that you may find your way
to where you belong
Louie Spooner Bucklin copyright 2015
I went back to High Island Creek Park last week and after a couple of days, there were about twelve horse trailers and thirty horses picketed in the camping area. the thought of leaving did occur to me as I like to be alone in the woods, but I waited, and started talking to some of the owners, and ended up staying until the last of them pulled up stakes and left yesterday.
It was wet and rainy the last two days, and that made for a very special mess. The owners try to clean up after their horses, but with the rain, there were large patches of mud mixed with horse poo, and a couple of owners just gave up completely. It was raining yesterday morning, lightly, and it amplified the stench, so when the rain stopped, I dried the outside of my tent with a towel so I could pack it up and get out of there. There was no way to make coffee with everything saturated.
The field of soybeans across the road from the park showed rapid growth of the seedlings; beans do grow almost fast enough to stand and observe, especial at the early stage where the two cots form into leaves. The contrast of the old growth stand of trees we were camping under ad the order of the tilled field with lines of green running parallel pleased my eye, and the stands of trees to either side of the field were nice too. There’s quite a bit of old growth deciduous forest in Sibley county.
One of the women who had parked near the fire ring I was using was trying to move the foil wrapped packet of meat and vegetables she had put in to cook, and said she wished she had a grill to place over the fire. I brought her the folding grill I decided not to use, as I’d have to use three or four times as much wood. I explained why I wasn’t using it, and she offered me money for it. She gave me ten bucks, and when I got up the next morning, someone had tucked another ten bucks under my fire scorched coffee pot. The money helped defray the cost of having to get into my car and going to Henderson to get coffee.
I also convinced them that using gloves when moving food on the fire was a good idea. They declined the offer of my jersey gloves, but when I left them on the stone of the fire ring, they both started using them.
That park is starting to have mosquitoes, so I plan to go north for my next camping destination.I need to learn more about why the inside of my tent under the sleeping pad or mylar sheet gets enough water to soak the edges of my sleeping bag.