It was a warm and breezy country day when we met at Hans and Gretchen's home and acres. As I sit here, waiting for the right words to describe the visit, I hear the voices of Dom and Marissa, Maria, Bambi, Max and Alex, their accounts of how many tadpoles were in the creek, which frogs they saw, how big. I hear my brothers' laughter, see them head out to dig a wading pool, for the kids to cool off in. Max heard the distinct rattle of a snake we all wanted to stay clear of. From the back porch I could see Sunrise Highway, recall trips out that way, Thanksgiving in a cabin, rappelling down Stonewall Peak, in the dark. The right words, I suppose, would be easy, relaxed, familiar, inspiring. We didn't have any particular agenda, except to see the new home, check out the horse stalls, explore the bright, clear creek. Max made shave ice with lemon syrup for his cousins and siblings. We talked about chicken coops, burros, roofers, gophers, plans for the years ahead. I am sad to think how rare these moments are, and happy to hope that there will be more to look forward to.
With Infinity More Monkeys, a picture a day.
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