So now as I sit in my rocking chair to lace up my boots I got to thinking about many things. Almost going over a ghost list if you will, because it was stuff I was thinking about, things I needed to do and the words kept pounding in my head. You got everything, do you got everything.
First I thought of the lady who gave me the rocker. One day I looked out my kitchen window and there she was unloading the rocker in my yard. Said she wanted me to have it. Well I have it, I use it, and I can’t thank her enough. But I will thank her again. I thought of all the stuff I packed in my biggest Duluth pack to use for the next few days. Loads of wool clothes, flashlights, compass and then, did I forget anything, floats through my mind. I get up out of the chair, it quits rocking without me.
I go get some coffee and think of lists. I always wanted to go see lemons harvested in Tuscany, and olives too. I wanted to spend two weeks in Ireland doing Irish things. I wish someone far away from me, wasn’t. Those thoughts won’t help me pack for staying in the tent with two foot of snow. In the past few weeks I have slept a lot in the snow. I should just repack what I packed last time. I survived last time. So why do I keep going over a dumb list in the first place.
It’s six in the evening. I joke to myself its six o’clock, do you know where your thoughts are, you sure weren’t sure where there were this morning at six o’clock. I damper the fireplace. I lock and close the house door. I head for my vehicle. In my head, do I have everything?
I drive for two and half hours and finally park. With everything out of the vehicle I turn off the headlights and turn on my headlamp. Snow flurries are flying sideways. I can make out a bit of the trail to where all the brothers of the frozen Riviera should be. I grab the snow shoes, put them on, shoulder my pack and start hiking into the darkness and it clobbers me again. Do I have everything, did I forget anything. This nagging thought has bothered me all day. I wish I could forget to think that.
The trout whisperer