Ground Squirrels, Deficits and Campfires

Yesterday as I sat, eyes closed, in the afternoon sun in my chair, a curious thing happened.

A ground squirrel jumped up and landed on my right arm. I opened my eyes, and there he was sitting and staring at me. Satisfied I was nothing more than part of his park surroundings, he checked out my arm with the nose twitter of curious rodents. Having determined there was nothing to eat (I was grateful for that)  he then jumped to a nearby picnic table.

Friendlier than they appear.

He discovered a knife with peanut butter on the blade and sampled that. Then he picked up a white paper disk the size of a quarter from the top of an opened squeeze jar of honey. He liked the honey. He held the disk in his front paws to his mouth and nibbled.

Then a gust of wind took the disk from his tiny paws and blew it away. My friend was nonplussed. He didn't bother  to follow it with his eyes. Instead he looked at me. It was a curious yet satisfied stare.

I was certain then that he knew nothing of deficits or debt ceilings.

Swollen with rain. [Please click]

It has been a very green morning. Two nights of rain have transformed parched grass to emerald meadow. Shoots of all kinds are pushing up through the soil. The cottonwoods and salt cedars bristle with drink.

The rain has caused the ban on campfires to be lifted, to the happiness of all.

A week ago there was much grumbling. Half the fun of camping is sitting around the fire, watching the flames and telling stories. It's not half so much fun sitting and singing songs around the ol' propane grill.

JNR