I'm sitting outside, in the shade of a faded lilac bush, as I hide from a big hard sun, before the afternoon clouds roll in and strong winds sweep the campsite, cooling everything down to give us a good night's sleep. Monarch butterflies, large enough that I mistook them for small birds at first, float around the apple trees. A bird of prey circles above us, chased by smaller blackbirds away from their fledglings. Morris sleeps at the camper door, his head resting near his water dish, after his mid-day snack. It's a dog's life for sure.
I'm knitting the second sock of the second pair I've started since we began our travels This pair will be finished today or tomorrow and I have enough yarn to work another pair before we arrive home. Sock knitting is perfect for camper travelling: small, simple, interesting enough to spark conversations with fellow travellers or to attend to in those times when you wish to remain silent. Despite intermittent traffic noise, it's remarkably quiet here, apart from the robins singing, insects buzzing and quails chittering as they dance along the top of the camper at 5 a.m.
When I've had quite enough of knitting, I spin or read one of the several yoga books I picked up downtown or at "Ted's Used Book Store," a remarkable treasure of a business. With such a tiny storefront, we expected the place to hold a book or two. Once inside, the place was rather like Alice's remarkable expansion, with room after room of carefully sorted books, including a small room packed with yoga practice and philosophical books, many in Sanskrit. I found a couple of treasures there and Mr. DD found enough to indulge his favourite hobby, reading, at least for the days he's been here.
One more supper with Young Ms. DD tonight and our visits with children are over. Twice yearly visits with such wonderful people are never enough, but I'm always grateful for the time we have together. Tonight, we'll share veggie burgers and perhaps a ginger apple cider or two ( a great discovery passed on to me by Young Ms. DD) before we say our goodbyes and head back out on the road tomorrow. I'm on a mission to catch a quail with my camera, but the goofy birds refuse to cooperate. Instead, they march right up to me, wait until I'm camera ready and then fly up into the nearest tree to hide, mocking me as they take flight, as if to say, "We're all here, right now." Perhaps that's all I need.
Meanwhile, I think I hear a ginger apple cider calling me.