Wednesday, August 8, 2018

The gypsy caravan sways down the green path alongside a cold, clear river. Up the winding road it goes, down the twisting highway it turns and keeps on going, until finally they arrive!


It is the perfect camp to spend the night.  They were lucky, yes, because this is midsummer and it is scorching hot around here and it is that time of year again when every gypsy on this precious earth of God comes out of their houses and apartments and buildings and shelter and wherever they may live, and head out to the woods and forest and mountains and rivers, looking for a respite from the sun… and thus, every campsite and every campground out there under this precious earth of God must probably would be occupied or taken or no-space-for-you-thank-you-very-much-goodbye… but, as I was saying before I got lost on my track, this time, the wild-haired gypsy girl and her beau, the Fisherman, were extra lucky… lucky to not only having found a place to spend a night or two, but having found that special place in the forest up the mountains lost somewhere in this precious earth of God they had set their hearts upon finding in the first place. 

The perfect spot—a campsite by the river—that part of the river where the water runs gentler and clearer and where the singing rocks lives.



You see, they’ve been here before.  They had camped here many a time before.  The place holds a nosegay of memories like some sacred bouquet of remembrances and happy moments that will forevermore live in their hearts. 

The wild-haired gypsy girl remembers camping here as a young mom; her precious brood just babies; her Fisherman in his younger days a bushy head full of dark hair; always brave always gentle… she remembers the wild Arrowleaf Balsamroot blooming in mid-summer and the voice of the river; low and reticent revealing its deep, green secrets at 2:00am—the sound of rushing water a magic thing. A magic, moving, living part of the very earth itself; still embalmed in her soul.  





The gypsy girl remembers, too, puffy-eyes-fussy hair friends waking up along her tent, and walking by her side along the tracks of time her dear father and mother on this same very campsite… right here; right in this same spot by the campfire and night ghosts.  All of them gone now; gone here or there; gone wherever life may have taken them who knows where somewhere beyond the blue. Because life is just like that—one day we are and the following we are not.  Day pass, history changes, hearts substitute feelings and dreams cease to be.






   
And thus into the wild they went, loosing their way, finding their soul.

Tuesday, July 3, 2018

Life is better when you imagine it dream it or daydream it just the way you want it be... and thus… the gypsy girl and her beau, the Fisherman, went up-up, higher up than ever before this time, searching for new places to just be… their gypsy caravan went along winding perilous roads, and on trails along the edge of the ravine of a wild river, until it vanished into the blue… or into the green, because that’s just how that part of the world where the gypsy caravan finally rested, looked like… green green green, everything was exuberantly green!  


Except for the clear dark blue lake down below the gypsy camp!


They set out camp among all the shrubbery and tall pines and were immediately swallowed up by Nature..


They felt so small and insignificant under the spell of that forest of Douglas fir and lodgepole pine, and so fortunate to be alive, and part of this amazing beautiful world!


Cold, pristine waters… tripping through sagebrush and talus fields on wobbly knees and ankles, spooked witless by grouse bursting out of the brush beneath their feet they went... until... the calmness and picture-perfect lake… and trouts!  Lots of trouts to fish!


At an elevation of 6,900 feet.


Thin air, low temperatures, exuberant green, rosy, wind bitten faces.


The gypsy girl and her Fisherman lover stayed up high for a little too long collecting rocks and fishing, and then made their way back down the steep face of the mountain in the stumbling dusky hours…  a nice fire for warmth, awesome food and delicious company...


A humble table for two...


A meal for two...


And inside the gypsy caravan dusky light sweet aroma... cozy nights.


Breakfast are the best when in the gypsy caravan!


The girly gypsy quarters are always my favorite... colorful, glamorous, bizarre, filled with all sorts of pretty things to enhance your imagination, and quite unlike that of the Fisherman, on the opposite side of the caravan!



I liked how very messy she let it be this time!


And how the last sun of the day, always-always make fancy designs on the roof just before nightfall!


They had a beautiful time… following the Son and His light throughout the day; and the moon to give them light to dance and play, to sing their songs of love and dance around the fire...  Oh, I hope you have enjoyed my little story!  Don’t be shy!  Come along and join our gypsy caravan!  We are heading for another mountain, for another land.  And would you like to come for a ride? We'll go so high. And if you've got the faith, we'll climb up to the sky… our wagon wheels keep rollin' on.  Our caravan keeps movin' on.  Through streams and over mountains, trough valleys and over the hills, through meadows and across the plains, while our wagon wheels keep rollin' on...

Love you all!




Wednesday, June 6, 2018

Camping is so different here than camping in the south… those hot-hot-super-hot and humid camping summer days are over—so here we are now... camping on the top of the world!




This time, we chose a campground at an elevation of 3,900 feet on the south fork of a wild, icy river… in a place where it is always cold at all hours, where deers and bears roam the land as freely as they can be, and travelers only pass by on the way to somewhere else.




A place where fishermen are willing to lose their soul for a trout or two! 


For hours and hours waiting for the fish to bite… while I play... "or wait for wind to fly a kite. Or wait around for Friday night or wait perhaps for our Uncle Jake or a pot to boil or a better break or a string of pearls or a pair of pants or a wig with curls or another chance. Everyone is just waiting.” (Dr. Seuss)


If you want to live the gypsy life, then this is it.  No toilets no shower no electricity no computer no Ipod no phone!  You just do with what you have and what you don’t have.  You sit and listen to the wind tell stories, you put your feet in frigid river waters and wait until you think you are a mermaid of some undefinable realm.  You dream, you play, you hear the songs of the wild, and fancy yourself walking in the world of pixies and hobgoblins.  You walk under purple glowing sky, you eat potatoes you eat whatever you can find, and then, at night, you cuddle under warm blankets and snuggle tightly by that dear funny lover of all your life, as if tomorrow will never come… then you go to sleep believing everything will exceed the previous day... comes the following morning.