(good for the soul)

D oesn't everyone have the right to say BS to it all and shed responsibilities and schedules every once in a while, to ignore to do's and gotten dones, including keeping the front lawn mowed to perfection and the trash put out to the curb early every Wednesday?

Well I think they do, and I will go further, that it is even good for the soul to forget our normal comforts once in a while, to become so involved in life that changes of clothes or checking our looks in the mirror are not even noticed in their absence?

Well right here I can hear my smart teenage daughter saying to "cut the crap, that you don't worry about any of those things anyway.", in a conversation we had about this, and then she followed by saying what I am talking about is very close to how the bums downtown live. I explained that "no, they usually stick to the lowlands, and you almost never see a street person with trekking poles."

The number of parents that win logic arguments with teenagers could be counted on one hand in a month, and I don't really care to debate Amy or anyone else about what I am saying. You either get it or you don't.

Freedom is what I am talking about here, the freedom of blue skies and high peaks and mountain storms and the winds of timberline. Freedom to walk those ridges with two dogs, to watch and listen to the approaching thunderstorm then finally to retreat to the tent to wait it out to the relaxing sound of rain hitting the fabric roof. Freedom to be there when the sky suddenly lightens and upon exiting the tent find a rainbow that seems just a few hundred yards off, arched over the lake below camp.

Anyone at all can accuse me of being eccentric or a loner or even call me a loser. Have they seen what I just described, which is so unexpected I see it as nothing other than a gift?

Yes, I believe it was one, and so was what me and the dogs came across the next day on a high wind swept ridge – scores of blue gentians, taking in the last few days of summer sunshine, completing their life cycle before the winds and cold of a long winter begin.

To be attentive to mountain storms and richly colored gentians can make a person feel rich, and maybe therein lies the truth for me, being one who puts high stock in such things.

Walking mountains and meadows with good dogs, paying attention to the divine gifts of this earth, has been its own reward, beyond all else I might acquire or possess.