It was 50 miles into town. But I was out of food and propane.
The forecast was for rain, but as the morning progressed the sky got bluer.
At 1:00, we were on the road...a half-hour early.
I gave out several Western Watersheds Project newsletters to folks coming in. I was pleasantly surprised when the first one asked, "You're saying we should stop supporting these rangeland Queens and return the land to habitat?" A bit taken aback by the use of "Queens," I had to allow they often behave like miffed royalty, pouting and sucking their thumbs. The others were polite and attentive to my spiel, and at least feigned interest.
Near sunset, the eternal question begged: Where to now brown cow? The musicians I met the other day commended Whitewater Draw Wildlife Area. Following a Google to make sure it hadn't succumbed to Covid and another query about distance, we set off.
But what with interacting with all the people and enduring the loud blatting and backfire (at the gas station) of a couple of Dennis Hopper wannabes
not to mention the resupply shopping, I'z z'austed. So though we (Phoebe and I) didn't go back to perzackly from whence we came, we ended up close.
Tuh-morowz anudder day; so we hope.
