When I look up at the Arizona night sky I have the same feelings I get on Easter Sunday at 14th Street when we do the hallelujah chorus.
King of Kings – forever and ever Hallelujah hallelujah
And Lord of Lords – forever and ever Hallelujah hallelujah
And just like in church I can sing in all four parts. The singing coyotes even added the the harmony. Also from psalm 8 “When I look at the night sky and see the work of your fingers— the moon and the stars you set in place” I feel kinda small, connected, spiritual, one with The God of the heavens, and eternally grateful to know the One who did the heavens.
You just don’t get this in Michigan. Well maybe a little at Young State park at 2 in the morning on the beach. But mountains and sky and stars generate introspection. May be related to just turning 73, but it’s not an unpleasant feeling. I can’t wait to get back to pastor Benj and church but out west night skies aren’t far behind on the close-to-God scale.
But I digress. The morning started out with desert disc golf. Desert disc golf is similar to Michigan disc golf except for one critical difference. The desert is a dangerous place. I’m not talking rattlers, scorpions and Gila monsters. It’s all the spiney, prickly, growing things. Retrieving your disc from a bush in Michigan may be hard to find but it don’t hurt you like it does here. Lynne added class to our foursome.
Two weeks on the road required a visit to the barber shop. It wasn’t generator hours yet but the a/c outlet in my truck bed got used for the first time. Per my expression, the barberette is developing her light touch. So I’m buzzed for a couple of weeks.
Tuesday was on to Joshua Tree. About a five hour drive. We discovered as we were crossing into California, George and Linda Dalman, Anna’s in-laws, we’re :30 minutes behind us on the way to Palm Springs. We made dinner and catch up plans for next week. Warmer in Joshua Tree but lots of wind and very unlevel sites. These wedgy things helped Jack and Lynne out a lot. They had to move and she said their rig sounded wiggly the previous night. I asked what wiggly sounded like and she did eeeh screeeech weeesy something sounds and I got a audio picture.
Wednesday was the big hike day. But it started out inauspiciously. After 48 years you would think I could remember our anniversary – not. I said I’d run out a get a card. She said just start the generator so I can have a Kerug decaf, and Mickey became a happy camper. The hike was the west side trail loop. 4.7 miles and it took us just short of four hours. The other four being younger headed on a high view trail hike with a lot of vertical. None of us realized what we getting into. Climbing up a washed out trail with a rocky, rolly surface was challenging, but we did it. Not bad for seventy somethings. It was nap time when we got back and then review and evaluation, otherwise known as happy hour.
Nice to have your own barber along, Gary. But I was hoping you would be sporting a man-bun by the time you got back to Holland!