Grassy Ass (that is German for 'thanks to ye').
It is new musak Thursday today, right?
Acting sane, playing it safe
I wasn't sold on that plan anyways
Feeling afraid of making a change
Hoping to last another day
I want them to stop, the circular thoughts
Spinning a whirlpool of forget-me-nots
I gave what I got, it came as a shock
To find out I'm fine with what I've lost
It's new(ish), but it might as well be some late 90's/early 00's emo.
I wouldn't have dropped over that saddle had I been on my own, as I mostly am. I can talk myself - to myself when it is only myself - into quite a bit, maybe more than is necessary or smart, but there is a line in the sand somewhere. The thought, 'there is at least someone here to report the location of the body', was needed to redraw that line in the sand a little further away.
'It looks like there is a goat trail here at the top, at least, and the cliff face will help - I am going for it'.
Three points of contact and life is good. I am sure anyone else here would've went for it, too - no problem. I am not the first nor the last to go for it, certainly.
This reflection comes from the fact that summer is over, along with my time in the mountains. This past adventure was the best of the summer, perhaps of the past 3 summers. Even without the fish. It is a good feeling coming home exhausted after a day afield, with only a little gas left in the (proverbial) tank. June's 15 miles on a beaten path doesn't do it by August, and August's 15 miles, full of boulder fields and talus and not a beaten blade of grass, would be difficult in June. You can imagine the melancholy the ending of the season brings.
I had plans to hunt one of the unlimited ram districts this season. It is needle-in-a-haystack hunting for sheep, requiring miles and days afield looking for a legal ram. The quota is sometimes not met. I had planned 10 days, a Friday - Sunday, alone in the mountains, hunting above 8000' ft in pursuit of sheep in September, then another 10 days straight in October should I not have found my quarry and the season not have been closed due to a met quota. My plans began to crumble when my time in September fell to only allowing 5 days in the mountains -- the plans turned to dust when I drew my first choice antelope tag. I am turning the September days I had left into a bird hunting trip to Idaho with falcon and dogs. The October days will go to antelope and bird hunting, with falcon and dogs, in central Montana. Next year, but this year's time in solitude and silence high in the thin air at the top of the world is over.
I hope you all had a wonderful summer, and here is to another one next year. :cool
With the change of season comes new excitement. There is little in the world that compares to the sight of a feathered teardrop descending from heaven, at a speed greater than free fall, with little other than death, and not her own, on her mind. It is not my doing, it is the doing of millions of years of practice, it is the best thing.