i have no pretty pictures for you today. more specifically, my pictures are loading onto my computer now and sunset in two minutes and i'm still a half hour from my campsite.
last night i had a lot of company on the campground. on both sides of me there were little cities of people with trailers and tents gathered around their central firepits and just fom the way life is in their camps they appear to be all men. there's a lot of woodchopping and not much talking and the occasional offering of beers.
their fires are bright and it's kind of good to have neighbors because it can be very lonely out there. sometimes i just like knowing there are other people within a quarter mile, but sometimes when it's cold and the snow starts to fly it's good to feel like part of a little outpost, something just short of a community.
since the gate was open, it was possible to drive straight over the mountain to church, which took about forty minutes off the trip.
i talked to a man who is dying. he will maybe live a year. he doesn't look sick, but he says he's slowing down. he says he doesn't tell a lot of people about the cancer, not wanting other people to make decisions for him about what he will and will not do in the time he has left. he smiled while we were talking, but there were tears in his eyes.
all i could do was meet his sorrow head on. there's nothing you can say to a dying man that won't be empty except to open your heart and let whatever happens happen. i am sorry for your pain. i am sorry for your lost opportunities. it's been nice talking with you. i hope to see you again.
there was a frost on the ground when i woke up today. going over the mountain there was snow at the high elevations, a couple of inches. winter is coming, and fast.