The first drops of rain were falling as we rolled up to our campsite late in the afternoon. We were at about 4000 ft. about 30 miles west of the entrance to Yosemite on Hwy 120.
Oola, always one for adventure, urged me to pitch the tent. Somewhere close by there was a small herd of cows, complete with bells. Oola thought them very musical. There was a group of Korean families close by. It sounded is if they were playing some kind of game that ended in uproarious laughter about every 3 to 5 minutes. Well, in today’s world, who can begrudge laughter.
The rain was prompting a regalement of wildflowers. There were these white bell-like flowers, and poison oak, and there was bear clover, and poison oak, and little yellow flowers, and poison oak, and something that looked like wild strawberry, and poison oak — to which my body has a hearty and unambiguous response.
There was poison oak everywhere (I should have remembered that this is not uncommon in this part of the Sierra.)
I tried to warn one of the Korean moms. She and her small son were picking up twigs for kindling. I saw him back into a bush of the stuff. So I pointed to it and said she needed to be careful. She replied something like “ooooaa…k?” I pantomimed scratching. I thought of telling her about Queen Lily soap. But didn’t know how to translate.
We lay in the tent, eating a dinner of fruit-and-nut bars without tea because I forgot the matches, listening to the tip, tip, tip of rain on our roof and the calling of cows with their bells, and the laughter of the Koreans. It was quite relaxing — once we figured that the tent was as advertized and it would not leak. During breaks in the rain we went out looking at the wildflowers and making iPad drawings.
Perfect days come in many varieties.
I will send these posts out as I get access to Wi-Fi. It seems that I have not been touched by the dreaded poison oak. Hope the Koreans are as lucky.