“You know to be silent in the wilderness. It is that which matters, to learn to live with silence.”
—Louis L’Amour, The Californios (1974)
Lying in the dirt beside the campfire, a long hard day’s hike from the nearest road, a steaming cup of coffee in hand, watching the warm glow of sunset fade to the cool colors of night and reflecting on the day’s happenings. The falling temperature drawing a floral and earthen mélange of fragrance from the surrounding wilderness, chaparral at dusk, herbal and sweet smelt briefly between swirling plumes of wood smoke biting at the nostrils. The staccato pop and crackle of the building blaze exploding sporadically like miniature gunfire from the sandstone encircled pit, embers shoot winding into the endarkened void overhead, the aqueous din of the nearby Wild and Scenic Sisquoc River constant. It is the smallest elements, frequently overlooked, often ignored and mostly taken for granted as ordinary and boring, when attention is focused on the minutes of the moment, which can weigh heavy on the balance of life. If allowed.
The thing which is catching my attention the most in your short paragraph is something we’ve missed for many years now – the opportunity to get dusty. It rains nearly every day here and you just don’t get the chance. But, quite a few years ago (far more than 10), I used to go away camping for a week at a time and it would be very dry and I’d get very dusty every day. I used to find that irritating – now I think I’d welcome it with it coming hand in hand with dry weather!
“Talk about me babe, if you must
Throw on the dirt, pile on the dust
I’d do the same thing if I could
You know what they say, they say it’s all good”
A bit of sun would be good – can you send us some? 😉