Canyon Walk

I live on the edge of a canyon, with a creek snaking down increasingly steep terrain as it goes, running into a more serious creek with considerably more water in it, almost a river, coming from Nevada City. I am downstream from there, you see. A few days ago, with chilly breeze blowing in wetly from the coast, and the smell of rain, and scudding clouds close overhead, I took myself and my MP3 player for a walk. Down my usual slope, but then detour through the fire-escape route, and along the road. This being the mountains, I was passed by cars 4 whole times, and two motorcycles. One of the cars went by slow enough to say hello out the window. Love small towns.

The north side of the hill gets less sunlight, so it is damp, growing more trees, with more overhang and shade, making it yet more damp. In the winter it gets icy down there, but in the summer, now, its lovely. I meandered along the road, repeatedly reminding myself that it would eventually loop around, back up the hill. And it did. After about 600 feet of descent, I then got to climb even higher up a 15% grade, which feels like a 45 degree slope but isn't. It was paved, steep, and worked my heart very nicely. Too steep for a bicycle. Steep enough for shorter steps, but determination has always served me well so I continued my climb and eventually crested beside the high school. A quick stroll back down the road, and return to familiar territory once more, with an easy return home. I was gone over an hour.

I didn't realize this as I was walking, but its exactly the sort of place a mountain lion lies in wait to jump on you after you pass by, oblivious. The canyon is their exact territory, and full of the deer they eat. And dogs and cats, of course. Why people up here insist on tiny snack-sized dogs, I have no idea. We get packs of coyotes every full moon, howling up the street all night, wandering around in search of pets to eat. And they always get some, too. If the moon is a Monday night, trash cans are out, and they flip them over. In the higher country, bears do the same thing. My hike was safely without interruption and I may do it again.

For today, we'll see the hottest day of the year, expecting over 100'F. The sun was hot early, and my thermometer reports to me that its 95'F and climbing, at barely noon. It is summer. I'm sipping spearmint iced tea, kicking back with a novel, and enjoying the fan to keep me cool. We delay our AC as late as possible because it is expensive and stifling. I'm in the mood for fried chicken, but its very fattening so I expect we'll do hamburgers instead. The grapes outside my window continue to gradually swell, and we harvested a single, large, ripe fig off our tree. Sweet and delicious. If only it would rain. Normal years get 60 inches. We had barely 20. A heavy El Nino will give us 100 inches. That's 8 feet of water, something to fill every reservoir, saturate every aquifer, grow a tremendous snow pack in the high country, thunder down every stream and riverbed, and happily restore my state to perfect health, except for all the flooding of course. You can't have everything.

Mornings here are worth getting up for. And best used early enough that the air remains cool. Soon enough it is time to close up the house and huddle indoors. It is summertime.