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Show V7 Butte rlUej (fiainliouKS f M & I , , v. i y It 57 fT A perfectly shaped flat rock caught my eye. 'Just what we need,' I said to nobody in particular . . . and struggled to stuff the rock under the wheel. 'Alright,' I said, .(to the truck, I guess). I've done my share. . . got all these branches and rocks. Now its your turn to get us out of here. You won't like spending the night here any more than I will'. And patting the yellow hood, I revved the engine and gave it one more try. I guess my threats about the cold night alone in the hills worked, and I was almost al-most surprised when we zipped out of there as tho' we were being chased by a bear. If you heard a strange noise, like a far away 'Yahoo!' 'Ya-hoo!' it was likely just me. We literally flew over the bumps and ridges, and it seemed all I could do to keep us from sprouting wings , as we headed for home. Thankfully, it all turned out well. Ithadbeenabeauti-ful Ithadbeenabeauti-ful day, and I had been rebuked re-buked and reminded of a principle I had learned long ago, but had evidently convinced con-vinced myself that I would not need today, at least. I knew I should THINK first, and let someone know where I'd be going. I knew I should take enough food and water and something to roll up in while I toast my toes by the fire, if I'm stranded. .And from now on, I'll do it. It's a beautiful time of year. Already the willows lining the waterways are glowing ' with that warm, , golden , , blush that tells us Spring is closer than we thought. Though we think we see just the bare bough on the patient, winter weary tree, upon closer investigation investiga-tion we find the leaf waiting to be born. Spring is full ofpromises. Mornings are fresh and bright, nights still chill . . . and the moon has that special pearl white glow seen only at this time of year. All in all, its a beautiful world we live in. It's up to us to look for and enjoy the beauty. Life's too short to Ignore it. I guess we can't complain, really, we've had a mild winter, weatherwise. I for one have not missed the deep snows, icy roads and bitter temperatures. However How-ever the farmers who don't have access to reservoir water may have to pay the piper unless bountiful Spring rains are in store. I was out in the hills last weekend. Had a great time putting all over the hills west of Milford. It wasn't too smart though, as I decided to take one road into the higher elevations, a skiff of snow still clung to the sidehills. 'It's going to get muddy,' I told myself. 'You'd better find a place to turn around.' But the road didn't cooperate and when I finally found a place wide enough, I knew before I turned that I'd likely sink in the soft sand. The little lit-tle truck doesn't require much space to turn so I thought I'd try anyway. Sure enough the back wheel sank like a bone in' a soup kettle. 'Now you've done it,' I scolded myself. "Nobody around for miles and you're stuck!' Somebody had been cutting firewood not too long ago, and conveniently left the 'small stuff' around the stump.' I gathered all the branches I could and stuffed them in front of the wheel. 'Hmm. It worked a little bit. Try it again.' I stacked stack-ed more branches and dropped drop-ped rocks down in the hole the wheel was digging. The sun began to sink behind the horizon and the chill was immediately noticeable. I was glad for a while that no one was around to hear the uncomplimentary (to put . it mildly) names I called myself. For some reason ' I talk to myself a lot when I'm alone in the 'woods'. I've often thought that if any one came upon me unawares they'd think I was an utter mental case. Tryaslmight the wheel sank deeper into the soft damp sand. I began to look around to see what kind of a place I might end up spending the night. There were plenty of small' pieces of wood around. I had a few matches. in the glove box, my lunch still in the sack, and behind the seat yep, it was still there was an old camp blanket left over from some ! long ago night in the hills. |