A Spring Day In Winter

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The dream I woke up to this morning was a little strange. I seem to have been one of a party of about ten frontiersmen moving through this area, and my role with these men was maybe that of a cook or a provisioner for the group. I never could figure out what their real purpose was, but I recognized the landscape.

It may have something to do with the walks I've taken down toward the river bottom that's part of our family land. Despite the worrying of the weather forecasters on the local TV stations that seem concerned about North Carolina being in a sort of a drought because the rainfall amounts are low, the swamps here are full of water. I couldn't get anywhere near the river because the floodplains were... errr... flooded.

Despite the fact that I'd gone on these long hikes (relative to how far my brother and I normally walk), when he called last night to see if I wanted to go for our regular walk, I told him I'd go, and so I did a lotta walking yesterday, and even the day before.

The day before I hiked down toward the river again, and on the way back I walked about five hundred yards (457.2 M) across a freshly plowed field. That was some tough walking that literally made me so tired I thought I'd end up having a heat stroke from the physical effort. I omitted that section of my walk yesterday.

The red bud maples are out in full bloom now. I noticed them down by the floodplains in the last couple of days, and had ignored the maple right outside my window. Maybe that's because I haven't done as much driving around recently. Normally I'd spot this activity in the low lands all the roads around here go through. Spring events like this amaze me every year.

Exactly why spring amazes me each year is a wonder since I've seen it happen off and on for nearly 72 years or will, because my birthday, which is in the spring, April 20th, is coming up in less than two months. I haven't been here for all those spring seasons. In the past I was in other places when spring arrived, but I have been here for at least the last ten years.

It's a little past twelve o'clock noon, and the temperature is already 75° (24° C). I don't know if this sets a record for this area, but I doubt it. We get warm fronts through here all during the winter in which the temperatures get up fairly high for brief periods. I've never understood why until the satellite images began showing the weather patterns.

I've been to Seattle a couple of times. Just last year was one of them. The most interesting thing about it is Mount Rainier. A fourteen thousand foot mountain that can be seen from sea level at Puget Sound.

It's different from Mount Mitchell, which is the highest mountain east of the Mississippi River because to see it you have to drive up to it through the foothills, and you're already up pretty high. It's the same deal with the California and Colorado peaks. You're already high up when they appear in the skyline.

Not Mount Rainier though. It's clearly visible on a clear day from anywhere in the Seattle area. Pretty much like Mount Fuji near Tokyo. When I was there during my first hitch in the Navy it seemed like we could have sailed right up to the foot of it, but not really.

I don't have a clue why I'm writing about mountains I have seen this morning. Maybe I'm thinking about traveling again. I don't know why. I certainly can't afford it. I'll probably never travel much more than a hundred miles from this very spot before I croak.

It doesn't matter. I traveled extensively back when I was younger. Somehow I knew I needed to do what I needed to be young to do while I was young, and despite the price my families would have to pay as a husband and father, I did it anyway. So did Gautama. That's the way it is for some men.

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