Red Dog Smith and I ventured out of the office late this morning for a walk down to the river. Mrs. Smith was out hiking with some friends after ignoring my sage advice to always have a pocket knife when hiking. Who doesn’t carry a pocket knife into the wild?
Anyhow, the river isn’t far, and we got all the short way there without seeing another human being or another canine. We decided we are OK with having a trail completely to ourselves now and then.
On the way back, it got busy. We saw a total of three human beings – one walking his black Lab, two others going different directions on their bicycles.
To be more specific, we saw three elderly guys. All three had what some would call white hair, but I prefer to characterize as silver.
Sensing a pattern here?
Seeing three people in half an hour or so is what passes for busy in our rocky little chunk of Mesa County.
We also saw:
Two quick-footed lizards.
Butterflies.
Contrails criss-crossing the clear blue sky.
An enormous flat-topped mountain to the east of us.
On the way back, almost at the front door, I realized I have become some guy who writes about his lunch break now and then. I am OK with that. Red doesn’t seem to care.
The Smith Compound 