Sunday, May 29, 2011

Cries of the crows

The crows were relentless with their cackles and cries of the future or whatever it is they yell about in their half-human voices and unintelligible prognostications that only the medicine man and his ilk knew how to decipher. This is the kind of thing I peruse as the Crows' mumblings intermingle with my own inner voices which usually start their litany of fear mongering even before I'm fully awake.

The birds are always waking me up with their impossible melodic intervals and shrill tweets that are not limited to 140 characters and especially not a common musical scale. I've been known to get out of my tent to throw pine cones and even water bottles the them just for five more minutes of wrapping my head in my bag.

The campgrounds had a community center and a pool and a jacuzzi so we went down there and the people were trying to wrap their head around a Marine in a kilt. I guess this campground allows you to be a member or something and they had community events and karaoke and steak dinners and stuff here.

Back at the campground I was soon hunched over coloring books with Bandit's Nephew and Niece, Liam and Luna in washable crayola markers of unbelievable hues. I remember when it was just the primary colors but these days they have all kinds of colors and I was trying to figure out how I could use lavender and orange highlights in a lizard's scales and to convince Liam that eagles normally have purple feathers and blue beaks.

He wasn't buying it.

We decided to go pick up my car from the Saufley's and we were going to shuttle it up to the Anderson's but it turned out that only 24 miles walking turns into over an hour of driving in this part of California. That makes about as much sense as my coloring theory. I wanted to walk the two sections, but it was going to be a logistical headache so I brought my car back to the campground and figured we'd do the Harlem Shuttle Shuffle tomorrow.






David AKA “Mister F. Gentle Spirit”
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