Nose To The South
After many weeks of desert waterfalls, cold creek bathing and scouring the red soil for beautiful stones. The time has come to head back to Nashville. I will miss this small isolated yurt. The buzzards roost in a giant cottonwood tree out back. Circling the sky, seemingly frozen in the breeze. Like time stops every moment the wind picks up over our heads. An eerie and beautiful site. Much will be missed. The thing however, I won't miss is the incessant shaking of ones boots to dislodge swarms of ants threatening to climb into every nook and cranny of your anatomy. Relentless little bastards. Must be millions nestled underneath the soil on this property. They do however, seem adapt enough to not invade the sanctity of the home. Some sort of agreement must have been struck between the yurts previous tenants and these insects. One that I was very thankful for indeed. But, if you are outside the protection of its threshold. Say, chopping wood, washing dishes, picking apples, etc. You are now in their territory. Bitting and climbing faster than you can beat them off. Don't get me wrong. I love ants. But better to observe them from a distance I feel. Goodbye Boulder. Farewell buzzards. Adios ants.