We had high aspirations of going camping this week, but it is not to be.
Money for this (fence and wire and bolts and chimney brooms), money for that (a set of used french doors that will be sitting in the hallway now until next spring), money for something else (maintenance and minor repairs on the Tahoe) - and a now seemingly annual occurrence of a back injury for LC, and we are house bound for a week or two.
My tired Mountain Boy is recovering again after a long month of labor, so before winter takes a hold of this region maybe we can get some camping in.
During the summer the sun sets late in the evening over the mountain chains that make up the Big and Little Lost River Valleys.
In fall it settles somewhere between the valley and us, and throughout the winter the sun sets very early and directly over the Big Butte.
I walked with Kory a couple of evenings, deliberately late so that I could try and catch the setting sun.
Days have been very clear and very warm, and evenings recently have been filled with yellow skies that are so brilliant they almost feel electric.
Even though it is still warm, there is a change in the air in Atomic City.
Those who leave this place to winter in warmer climes are slowly getting themselves ready for their long journeys and their long months away from home.
From my perspective they miss the best season of the year here, but they don't see it that way.
Leaves are slowly beginning to change color.
People are outside a little less, spending less time on their fading yards.
When the wind blows now it has a deep sound to it.
An almost ominous deep sound that you hear in the wind throughout winter.
It is still early but everyone is already beginning to think of and prepare for winter, and the town is (one minute step at a time) beginning to close in on itself in preparation for hibernation....................
I am eager to embrace the impending silence of a long and cold winter.
Most people - if they ever saw Atomic City - would laugh at the notion of my eagerness for the quiet of winter, because this tiny and isolated town is very quiet most of the time.
But there is a special silence in winter.
There is almost an absolute silence in winter.
When for months on end no resident seems to venture outside. When no tourists come this way. When hunting season is over. When bar traffic diminishes. When the raceway is closed. When four wheelers and dirt bikers have safely and lovingly secured their motorized toys in storage for a few months. Even when the birds have disappeared.
When I can walk down the middle of the road with my dog and hear absolutely nothing but the sound of snow crunching under my feet.
When the icy mist surrounds our town, seemingly insulating it from the entire rest of the world.
When the still lifes of frozen bird houses and fence posts and tree limbs provide me with endless pictures, and when the deer (who spend time in winter hiding under the security blanket of trees in yards) silently watch our approach................
I am not certain if the golden skies of the past couple of days have been because of wild fires further west (and the resulting haze here), but I am always completely enamored with how different the world around me can look.
Many days the sky at sunset is pink and purple. Some days every shade of red. These days completely yellow.
My dog (and BLM land) bathed in yellow...................
Thoughts of you cross my mind a hundred times a day.
Hundreds of a times a day.
Standing on the shoulder of a cerebral highway I watch the thoughts as they speed by me, and I will them to keep going.
Don't stop. Not now. Keep going. Please don't stop.
I stay awake late into the night and wait until I am so tired, that I am certain I will actually be able to sleep.
I lay my head on the pillow, but instead of falling into sleep I fall into you.............Me