The mountain was the perfect refuge for a day like this. I was very aware of what was going on, but blessedly, I didn't have to watch or listen to it in real time. That would have been too triggering, not being able to fast forward it, or not have it filtered down into sound bites. As it is, I am upset hours later, and in a national sense, I am not alone. I have a difficult calculus ahead for future relationships, though. I think some deal breakers have been thrown down by people I have known since I was a little girl or young woman. My world may get more lonely soon. But I can't think about this right now.
I've been wanting to see wildlife on the mountain for as long as we have had that land. Until today, I had seen very few creatures, mostly squirrels and chipmunks. Today on the way there, a few miles past my favorite spot on the drive (a tiny, private lake), we saw something dash across the Peak to Peak highway. It wasn't something I recognized immediately. The Mr informed me that it was a badger. I don't think I have ever seen one in the wild. Maybe I've seen one in a zoo in my youth, but I haven't been to a zoo in so long I can't be sure. (I'm not big on animals in cages.) Apparently it's so rare to see them at all up in these mountains, that it was as special for the Mr as it was for me.
Later, while we were working on the cabin, my back was turned when a chipmunk ran up close to me. Mr S-P announced he was there, but before I could turn my head, he dashed under the cabin. As we drove home, there was a magpie flitting around the dirt roads near the house that I call the "Dog and Pony Show" in my head. (They have horses and dogs, and separate training areas for each visible from the road.) A little farther down the road, I saw a doe picking her way through the trees about twenty feet off to my right.
In addition to all of these fun signs of wildlife, there's one more that I'm less certain about. I was bringing up the rear on the march back to the car. I was still well above where I saw Elsa relieve herself on the way up the hill. I should not have been able to smell what she left hours earlier. Honestly, it also didn't smell like dog poo. (I shouldn't be a connoisseur of such, but with a dog like Murray, I am all too familiar.) I'm not an expert, but based on the aroma, I did wonder aloud whether there had been a bear on the mountain not long before we walked past.
For most of my life, I have avoided being around sunlight at that point in the afternoon when everything goes yellow. Because it was a migraine trigger, I hated it. It wasn't until the last few years, when between diet and medication I got my migraines under control, that I even learned that it was called the "golden hour," loved by photographers and painters. I've started to appreciate why. The landscape was beautiful on the drive home. The sun highlighted things I'd never noticed in all of these trips over the last few years. I most often keep my eyes focused on the road right in front of the truck. Today, I took in the long view. Today, I appreciated how incredibly large the mountains are, and how small I felt in relation to them. Today, I was awed.
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