On Sunday night I told RW I needed to do a short camping trip — I wanted a little break, away from civilization, out in the Idaho I know and love, before we fly through the last few weeks before our move. He sweetly acquiesced to my demands and on Monday afternoon, I found myself driving West with Tater Tot at my side. By early evening we reached City of Rocks, oh what a sight for sore eyes. We had our choice of camping spaces as there was hardly a soul to be seen for miles. I strapped my runners on my feet and Tate and I took a sunset run through, up and over the granitic formations that have made this little cove of stone famous within climbing circles. It was gorgeous. The sagebrush was painted moon silver and high up on a ridge a pack of coyotes sang at us in their swooping falsettos. I felt romanced half to death by that big country, wobbly in the knees, wide of soul and bright eyed.
That night, I made a nest beneath my truck canopy, read by headlamp for three hours before drifting to sleep while the music of raindrops slapped at the sides of my Tacoma. It was pure heaven.
I’ve felt due for a little adventure for some time now. RW and I have been hunkered down for months with the Airstream and general work demanding most of our time and energy. Time off has been spent in our local mountains or most lazily with a book on a couch. To take myself out to brush up against Idaho was the perfect way to celebrate spring and my love for this state. I must also confess, I’ve felt a bit of seperation anxiety over the idea of leaving Idaho this summer. I’ve been a touch sentimental about my aspen groves and a very special stand of juniper that bends around one of my favorite sections of mountain that I run frequently. I dig deep into memory and recall what those spaces look like and feel like at the height of summer, when the sun is so long in setting and the grasshoppers are scratching at my knees when I pass through tall grasses, and I feel a bit sad. I love it here. I’m going to miss it.
So I suppose, this little jaunt to the City was also my fondest attempt at saying farewell to my stomping grounds until November. Oh, Idaho, I’ll miss you.
In the morning, I brewed a cup of coffee and blinked at the power of the sunlight pouring down out of the sky, the granite grew warm beneath my palms and the birds were magnificent. They began their singing as the night sky turned from star-prickled black to midnight blue and what a lesson is there for humans — to rise each morning with a song on our lips, so eager to begin a new day, hearts bursting with anticipation for what every moment might hold. To strive to live with hope, with the start of every day. Then at night, to sing the sun down to sleep and revel in the magic of the daylight hours before tucking head beneath wing and nodding away to the downy comfort of bird dreams.
I strapped runners on my feet again and ran a lower trail before making breakfast and some delicious coffee. I sat there quietly, alone, listening to the world turn, the breeze in the conifers, sniffing at the hot scent of sage warming and feeling the slow hope of green in the aspen buds. Pure magic. Later in the morning Tate and I did some wonderful scrambling to the top of the Breadloaf formations, looked out over our valley and simply gave our minds and hearts space. We wound ourselves down and squandered some of our life minutes up there, basking in sun and twirled by the wind. In the afternoon, I made a nest in a granite hole and there I sat with a book and some iced tea, for hours, reading, sipping my nectar and watching the ravens and vultures ride the updrafts between granite slabs — their victorious wing spans glinting in the high sun.
Dinner was easy and I continued to read while the water was boiling. With the sinking sun came a resounding chill, after eating I rallied and scrambled up to the top of Bath Rock to watch the final strains of day turn the world brilliant and soft. Sunset here is likely better termed moonrise. The white of granite in any direction seems to reflect any and all celestial light so the landscape glows at night, like a thousand ghosts gliding up from the earth. The coyotes seem to sing the shadows into shades of blue and I think the stone grows a faint pulse and slinks taller in the night light. It’s an enchanting place, to be sure. I feel changed in the summer months when I sleep out on the rock under the moon, perhaps newer too, in some soul-sense, like the space of that place peels away some of the crust of age and leaves me in a new sort of youth, radiant and goosebumpled in the night wind. It’s like something straight out of a Narnia book!
Night came on, I made my nest in the truck, read for a few more hours and once again fell asleep to the song of rain.
I rose early, as early as the birds in the morning. As the night faded into day I could see low heavy clouds that didn’t seem to promise any lifting. I was chilled deep in my bones. I packed up and Tater joined me for a final hike before we hopped in the truck and made for Pocatello. I arrived home just in time to clean the bathroom and bake bread before one of RW’s rookie brothers arrived for a visit on his way North.
idaho will miss you too, little bird…
the tiny thunder of your footsteps through its hills
the gnomish sound of your hammer
the comforting sound of stoneware going into the oven at 10pm
your patience with the earth on your property
your attentiveness to the rose blooms
even the rumbling of the silver bullet ricocheting off the front of the albertson’s
i am so glad to know that you feel rooted in that great big state.
you, the nomadic hummingbird from the great white north.
it’s a beautiful thing indeed, and only wider skies and deeper life ahead.
Come back!!!
Don’t worry, the Methow will have rich places like this as well:)
xx
what a fabulous little trip!
<3
You would love it out there, A.
xx
my heart is going to burst just reading this!
what a lovely tale of connecting to what is real and eternal.
you have the incredible gift of being able to bring us along with you to the point that we can see, hear, feel, taste, and smell the experience ourselves.
thank you for that.
J!
Thank you.
I think we should plan a massive jamboree out there some summer. You ladies would LOVE it.
It amazes me how you manage to convey all the romance and at the same time allow us to observe you with those carefully planned self-photos. You do have that pragmatic base to your soaring soul. I appreciate it very much.
D,
Thank you. Your kindness mean so much to me. x
i really enjoy your wanderings. beautiful photos. i love a rock landscape. white tank in joshual tree is fabulous for this sort of this as well.
J Tree is INCREDIBLE. I agree with you. So is Bishop, CA — specifically the Buttermilk area, backed up against the Sierras. Just blindingly beautiful.
I will have to return and reread…strange how one becomes attached…your idaho will stay there for you waiting to be rediscovered…it is weird though, I remember when you moved from Tucson! xx
I know it will still be here when I return, but I’ll miss communing with it. 🙂 Gosh! The move from Arizona, what a move that was.
xx
And now I must prepare Chris to take care of the critters while I go on a solo jaunt.
Kayak perhaps.
Be well. I’m glad you had a good time.
He’ll let you know if he knows what’s good for you — both of you. 🙂 Happy paddling, sweet woman. x
So beautiful. I ache with a need to get out of this landscape of endless parking lots…
Ooh girl…take yourself away. ASAP. It’s good for the body mind and soul. x
Oh, Jillian…that was so breathtakingly beautiful. Funny- I was just going to say ‘breathtaking’, but I threw and ‘-ly’ on there and added to it – ’cause it sure deserved it!
Thanks for sharing the beauty with us 🙂
I prefer the word “breathtaking” with an “ly” on the end. You just made my afternoon!
x
I just have to add that the part about the birds…what a lovely reminder! To wake with songs of praise and lie down with songs of thanksgiving – it is something I will strive for!
Oh yes. The birds really know how to do it! 🙂 I strive for the same. I think it makes the world a better place. x
look at you way up there on those rocks!
HEY!….what’s that over there?!….[j-feather turns her head….pencilfox swoops in to snatch THAT HAT.]
GUFFAW!!! I’m going to have to send you this toque in the mail some day. You’ve been jonesing for it for months! x
Though our ideas of camping may vary wildly, I also had a craving to camp this last weekend. Our brains = atomically connected.
It’s that time of year, dear friend. x
Hi! I’ve been reading your site for a couple of years, and was wondering how you would feel about leaving your Idaho for the summer… the way you describe your lovely life/garden during those months, many times, makes me wish to be living outside of my SF ci-tay.
I love how you describe the way birds begin their days- with a song from their hearts. Birds never cease to give me great ~joy~.
Howdy Karen! I’ll miss my gardens (and mountains) here very much but will have plenty of space to garden in Winthrop. There’s a large garden at the base and it looks like we found a new acreage to live at, so I’ll garden there too. It won’t be quite the same, but I’ll find a way to love it just as much.
Thanks for being here!
You express your love for the place you live so beautifully. I think part of what makes it so wonderful to read is that you are reminding me how much I love the place I live, even though it it very different. I don’t tend to think of it all that often – it’s just there – but you make me realize it and love it better.
I LIVE to remind you of beauty, love and happiness too. I’m glad I was successful with this post. Thanks for being here! xx
Oh, I love the City. Such good climbing to be done and broad vistas to be seen…
Your words always seem to bring forth more words in my mind.. But good words usually do that to me! (And one can never have too many, can one?) Today was particularly serendipitous, as I read your post early this afternoon, and was just finishing up a magnificent book that had a passage echoing your own about the birdsong of dawn and dusk. Equally lovely passages- I think you and TTW would get along. So I’ll introduce you, (even though I’m sure you’re already know one another?) This is from her latest book- “When Women Were Birds”
“Once upon a time, when women were birds, there was the simple understanding that to sing at dawn and to sing at dusk was to heal the world through joy. The birds still remember what we have forgotten, that the world is mean to be celebrated.”
~The incomparable Terry Tempest Williams
I’m looking forward to see what you glean from a new environment- It’s clear that the land surrounding you has a significant impact on your work in all respects. Change is always an opportunity for growth, and I can’t wait to see the evolution of The Plume this summer!
BETH!
Kindred.
The City is beautiful indeed. It’s such a playground and soulful-scape. Just wonderful. I’m glad you know it well too.
Which TTW book is this quote from? I’ve only read a bit of her written word (I’m all about Annie Dillard as I love to be blinded with the spiritual melded with prosaic poetry/natural essay) and would love to see if there’s a copy of this book at my local bookery. In the meanwhile, I’m going to record this quote in my sketchbook — it’s so lovely and SO true, I felt it in my bones.
We should meet sometime. I think we’re probably compatible in a big way.
Be well today, x
Plume! You’re so sweet!
That quote is from a book called “When Women Were Birds,” and it has just recently come out. I would happily loan you my copy- but you would have to wait- Williams is coming to speak here in SLC, and I want to have her sign it! She has a lot of good books, if the newest isn’t available yet at your local shop. “Red” is especially good, as well as “An Unspoken Hunger,” and “Leap.” Of course, there’s more, but those are my favorites.
I would love to meet someday! I think we would be fast friends- and that our handy husband things would get along well too. Due to our current boat-building project, we’ll be in the SLC area for a good long while. If you’re ever passing through, don’t hesitate to look us up!
Happy Friday- B
Oh how you romance me…with your serenades & your Idaho!
A delicious read along with my bright morning’s cup of Grey.
you are so beautiful,
so, so beautiful.
xxO
Good morning, sweet beauty.
Thanks for being here N, I’ve been thinking about you a LOT lately.
xx
Thank you so much for taking me with you to my beloved America.
My pleasure!
you make me wanna throw my sleeping bag in the truck and hit the road for a little adventure of my own. what a beautiful spot for you and the tater to get away for a brief exploration.
You should. It would be so good for you. Just head up to Squamish for a weekend — I love it there, so much.
Plume, I’m so impressed by your solo adventures. This post makes me realize something I’ve been missing – I go on hikes for 2 or 3 hours but I’m always wanting it to last longer, to not have to return to civilization so soon!
Next time, just pack a bag and GO! You’ll love it:)