A Day

Linny, Jax, and I are getting in a hike most every day. It's still a little cold out but most of the future days look like they're in the 40s with a few creeping into the 50s. Lot more hiking in front of us. Each day when we get back there's a male sharp-shinned hawk sitting on the telescope stand or the cottonwood tree.

Little bit of an odd thing on Sunday. A family shows up to play disc golf. Plays their 18 holes, thanks us for the course very politely and then drives off. A few minutes later Linny says what are those disc golfers doing over at the gravel pit. I look through binoculars and it's hard to say. Stuff is spread out on top of and next to the gravel pit. I drive over there through the "No Trespassing" sign as they did and turn left to the pit. The guy is holding a chute, the kid riding a bicycle, and the woman takes off running and para glides into the sky. They guy says "She's going to meet us in Moab." I'm shocked that someone would drive through the sign and set up a take off runway without checking. She's flying over the main house and hogans which are full of people coming out here to get away from the noise and the crazy. He says "We were just playing on your course so we thought it was ok to use over here." I explain that's not how it works. He's packing up and there's nothing else I can say. I'm kind of stunned somebody would make that leap so I leave and drive back to the lodge. 

This morning there was a message on voicemail 90 seconds long. I click on it and it's the woman with a very emotional and you can tell heartfelt apology. It was painful to listen to the cracking in her voice apologizing. I suspect they were out playing and saw the in theory runway and when leaving it was spur of the moment. I don't know but I deeply appreciate the apology.

All but Mars is gone from the night sky. It's cold in the dark and three nights without a moon but it's creeping back now. The stars are so bright shimmering in the brisk of the night. Even they are cold. All blackness but the twinkling lights of the sky and the headlamp as I feed on the front porch. It's quiet, so quiet. It's good. A busy year needs some of these nights.