Of Moons And Mountains And A Bear

I get excited and practically giddy when I go to Red Feather.

We park up on top, among the copper boulders that surround the Silver Moonbeam. The first thing I do when I get out of the Subaru is stand still, look everything over, scan the land, and breathe it all in.

It had snowed recently and the bunny tracks are everywhere. Some other critters' feet prints have made laps around the trailer, but I can't tell what kind. The aspen trees are standing still and bare and I don't hear a sound. Giddiness is replaced with peace.

That is why I go here. That is what I like.

It's also what I need, this wild refuge that makes me think differently. The serene and gentleness of the pines standing guard, those hoodoo rocks that seem like strong arms protecting me from the world I'm annoyed with. My ravens that always, always show up and give me a wink as they fly on by. They can read my mind.

I wonder if my owl will tell me a secret tonight.

C and I have the warmest sleeping bags! He makes sure of that. We've got a supply of handmade wool hats and beanie caps that my mom makes, base layers and smart wools and fingerless gloves and headlamps. With a stack of books and hot tea, we're settled in for a cozy night, in a vintage trailer, high in the mountains.

I wonder if Peaches is hibernating yet? The sign is still up, to be alert of the bear that's been sighted in our area. He's a big bear! It's still early, not yet winter. He's probably still looking to put on few more pounds, to thicken up his black fur coat. I didn't leave him any honey this time. And peach season is over. I hope he's fat and happy and making a den for himself. And maybe, just maybe, Peaches is a girl. I can't wait to find out next summer.