We got to the creek finally and the plank that goes across the creek had slid down a ways in the high winter water and was jumbled up with fallen limbs and what not, but I managed to tip toe across without falling in the creek. I checked on the slope on the other side for my little seedling…. in vain. Somehow, some time, in the last few years it has disappeared. I felt bad. It probably succumbed to too many hot summer days without water. I used to go up and give it a quart or two once a month when I was there. However I told my husband that I prefer this scenario: Some gentle soul went hiking to the falls one day and glanced over on the bank near the creek, and saw my little seedling growing there. And they thought, my goodness, look at that, an Atlas Cedar. How in the world did that get here? I think I will take it home with me. So they dug it up with a nice ball of that leaf rich humus it was growing in and hauled it home and planted it in their yard where it flourishes today. And some day when their grandchildren ask where that tree came from, they will tell the story of the little seedling that they found by the side of Johnson creek and how they brought it home and planted it. That’s my story and I’m sticking to it. :-)
And I don’t want to hear any lectures about revisionist history okay?
And just for general information, the shooting stars ARE blooming, and the big leaf maples ARE budding out. It’s official.
What made the walk particularly quaint was the fact that it snowed last night down to about 3500 feet.
We did not hike up high enough to get into it, but we could see it when the clouds parted now and again. It drizzled on us most of the way there and back. But all in all it was a worthwhile thing to do at 6:30 AM on a Sunday morning.
Robbie was never happier to get back to the car, and I have given him a half an aspirin to help his sore muscles. But all he has to do for the rest of the day is sleep in the back seat of the car for the 5 hour drive home. I think he will be okay. Maybe he will have dreams of chasing squirrels like he used to. And maybe this time he will catch those fuzzy tailed, impudent little beasties.