Sunday, July 12, 2020

Camping at the “Lilac trees” campground, as I call this place...


I still remember last year’s penuries, the intense heat of July, the amount of people, their loud music and the particularly barrenness of the campground the Fisherman had chosen... I swore I never wanted to come back here again, if it wasn’t at that time of the year in early April when the lilac trees are in bloom and the intoxicating scent of its flowers pervades the campsite for miles around.  But this year the Fisherman chose right, and we got a place up on the higher grounds, outlooking the lake, were a small grove of trees and pines gives campers and gypsies their much-needed respite from the sun...
Campers were fewer this year too; with just the right amount of boats on the lake and children swimming in the afternoon, and birds seem to be everywhere this year, knowing perhaps that they have more liberty now with less people around, you find them flying from tree to tree everywhere, and the better part of it is, you can hear the too... their songs filling the airs and soothing your soul. 


I loved it here this year; and I’m so thankful—loved being able to sit outside under the shade of trees and just look down at the lake and at the boats going by and youth screaming with joy as boats race hauling them in their floating devices...
After our late lunch, we put our chairs out and brought our books, then I started my computer and wrote and wrote... and how peaceful it felt, and how I loved pouring out my heart into words for hours without end... until all of a sudden we noticed that the sun was coming down and that the people next to us were busy working on their dinner, and the Fisherman stood up and started making dinner too.  





We went for a walk around the campground right after dinner, and although it was still somewhat hot, I had energy enough to feel happy doing so...
When we came back to our camp we sat down again and again I wrote some more while the Fisherman read his new book... It was beautiful at this time of the day. Sunshine on the water made little twinkling stars and they shined and twinkle and the entire surface of the lake seem like a sky of glass.
...until the sun plunged behind those tall mountains in front of us and as soon as it did, temperatures plunged down as well, and it got a bit chilly... so sudden, that it was almost hard to believe... ah the power of the sun!
It was beautiful outside at this time of the day. 

We went inside and made sure our windows were all drown and that the gypsy caravan felt comfortable and cozy and then we read some more under the lights of lamps, before falling asleep.


I am feeling so much energetic these days, and I am so thankful for that... for a while now, my levels of energy had been slowly decreasing, and I have to wonder if this new energy had something to do with the vitamins 12 I started taking, and the spirulina, although I think it must probably has something to do with the inflammation medication that I’m also taking, which it is acting marvelous on my joins and movements.
So, by 6:30 am I was up, got dressed, and went outside to prepare our breakfast... it felt so good being able to do the things I used to and not having the Fisherman do them for me...

It was such a beautiful morning too, clear and with a wonderful blue sky above our heads.  We decided it was the perfect time for a little hike, and thus we hiked to the top of the hill, to where a small overlook stands and one can view the entire campground from there as campers start making there breakfast and the day wakes up. 
The hills were covered in wildflowers and it felt peaceful and quiet and I thought of how fortunate we were to still have peace in our midst and be able to enjoy the little things in life, which are really the big things in life, when others can’t or won’t.

Later that morning we droved down to the peer so that the Fisherman could fish.  We took our chairs and I read while the Fisherman fished or killed fish.  For he did.  He was too slow in removing the hook out on one fish, and although we tried saving the little thing, we couldn’t and I felt terribly bad for it...

We drove around the other side of the campground to take a look at future prospect sites and to see people’s motorhomes and campers and then came back to another cup of cinnamon coffee and toasts.  Ah, those awesome flavors of that ‘cinnamon’ coffee, which I have kept in our gypsy camper and only use when camping—every time I drink this coffee, I’m taken back to Cartagena, Colombia in memories, where we bought it last year in June when we visited Colombia for our nephew’s Alex’s wedding. 

It was such a beautiful place, and such beautiful morning that day, and every time I drink it every memory comes back...

I let the Fisherman cook our lunch; he likes doing that, so although I’m mostly vegetarian he made chicken fajitas... 

Then another night...


...and another beautiful morning...



Friday, June 26, 2020

The hills and mountains are in bloom—all the native wildflowers and beauties of the higher grounds at our feet and above our heads; clouds hanging above tall pines on blue skies…  how beautiful Nature is, and how beautiful this time of the year.  Campground speaking, thought, things are bad.  Things are  not as it used to be years ago when one could head out to the woods and mountains and always find empty spaces where to accommodate our gypsy souls and gypsy caravan.  Now, not even reserving ahead of time brings you any luck; for everything is taken from weeks and weeks ahead of time, and it you go out without a reservation, the possibilities of camping are null.  No luck whatsoever.

Our beautiful state had been discovered by Californians.  People from other states too, they are moving in packs here, but particularly people from California.  Hundreds and thousands of houses and building complex are being built and our beautiful and quiet country roads are not any more.  It is so sad.  

Either way, we were able to spend a night and half a day the following morning, Saturday.


 
 

  
  
  

 
  

   






Saturday, June 13, 2020

Rain...

Came to the lake by the mountains, parked our gypsy caravan and got ready for dinner....

We followed a deer through the camp after dinner and went by the lake, to sit atop the large rocks and look into the distance... the quiet waters, snowy mountain peaks and the few youngsters surf-boarding atop crystal-clear waters.  Came back to our gypsy caravan and closed its doors to the night outside.

The following morning woke us up with rain... rain in the mountains means cold and dampness and mud... and it means breakfast eaten inside and reading and coffee making...

...mud, mud in my shoes and mud on my clothes all day long.  It stopped raining for a few minutes in the afternoon.  Went down to the lake, got a fish, took some pictures, the mountains woke up in smoke; smoke on its peaks and smoke on the water. We packed, and left.








Friday, May 29, 2020


Camping again this weekend.  In fact, it was ‘boondocking’ this time.  Which means no electricity no water no toilets just nature and ‘all those people around you’—cause yes, this time not only we step outside from what we usually do, but we also camped with many other families we had never met before. Our daughter invited us camping, and because we thought it was going to be just us and the family, we agreed, but when we got all the way of the tallest mountains after many hours driving and saw that many people, children and dogs, we could hardly believe it!  —how come nobody told us it was going to be this?  We were not told; in case we would say ‘no’.

 

And what a beautiful place this was up in some mountain range lost in nature with the wild river running below, wild and free.  It gets very cold up here, but our gypsy camper is very nicely insulated and we sleep well, and had our breakfast early that morning in the warm cozy gypsy kitchen and dining room.  The earth was steaming early this morning as sun kissed wet grasses and warmed the earth. 

We went down to the river to explore and then everyone followed.  We discovered a cave in the rock in that place where the river divided in two and made an island in the center. In a certain spot, I found a bunch of bird feathers—big black feathers and I brought with me a special magical feather to write my magical books with. I explained to the children that there must had been a strong fight against two birds up there, and I was wondering if perhaps they had been eagles.  They suggested it must had been an ostrich fight for sure, because the feather was so big.  And they were right.  It must had been an ostrich fight of sorts, after all children are always right.

 
  
 
  
 
  
When we came back the Fisherman and I sat down in a sunshiny spot and we read for a few hours while everyone else employed themselves in doing whatever they wanted. 

The children came back to me and I played with them, and we went down to the stony part of the trail and looked for shapes in the stones.  I found a greenish witch’s nose and later a rusty heart.  The kids took me down to where they said the tiger’s blood was, which it was no other than a little puddle of mud, but it really was tiger’s blood and then we pretended a bear was following us and we run back up the hill to the safety of our camp. 

In our campsite we found some big, bear prints, which it really was no other than larger deeps where water had hit harder, but it was such fun imagining, with little children following me everywhere. There were about 8 dogs in total among all the family, and some of the kids rode their own motorcycles and racers up and down the hills. 

For lunch Lissy asked if she could help me cook inside the gypsy trailer.  She already had the menu she wanted, and thus we made black beans, rice and quesadillas... it was a lot of dishes to wash after lunch, but the nice Fisherman did it all for me.

In the evening we sat by the fire and made up stories, scary and funny and super awesome stories, until it got really dark and everyone felt sleep...