Ah, camping. Ah the Wasatch in June: all green and in flower, and cold enough at night to render any thoughts of reproduction in the future impossible. Think brass monkey, or a well digger's hind quarters, or the breast of a witch. It was, however, still spectacular, even if folks lost their keys and a squirrel decided the peanuts were his and his alone (only the round ones mind you, not the oddly shaped ones.)
And when we got home out in front of the house was the street light from over the street neatly placed on the parking strip. Across the street were the remnants of the pole: it was snapped in 3 places. With the light part on our side was a branch. At first we thought it was from our tree, but on further inspection we saw that it was from the tree nearest to where the light stood. A few moments of CSI and we determined the the light pole had been taken out by someone who was very drunk late last night (the branch had just slightly begun to wilt.) It must have been a spectacular sound. The Sugar Cam looks at that very spot, but I think the foliage blocs its way now. Anyone see anything?
We'll have on-the-scene pictures of the snapped pole and camping on the noon news.
UPDATE: apparently the light pole was hit by a geriatric who became distracted and went off the road. The person was not hurt, but one assume the person was driving a big old-person's car.
Your camping narrative has inspired me. I must take the family camping soon.ReplyDelete
oh ya, I forgot about St.John Smythe.....the bastard has still to get his own blog going.....soon, my son, soooon.ReplyDelete
where were the keys?