A Peanut-Butter blizzard with Troop 66 before their night of comedy skits.
Heading for the hills and the Nevada border has me reflecting on where I’ve already been, and those I’ve met. While walking may seem reflective, solitary, anti-social, thus far it’s far from that. It’s been collaborative, even social. Heading for Dixon last week, I began my walk at the intersection I’d left off the night before. There was a stop sign, a metal works plant and open fields. I wasn’t looking forward to the day at all. Then, right at that drab, dusty field a series of hot-air balloons from Napa were looking to land. It was there watching the sky parade I met Cricket, her daughter Nancy and grandson Aiden. The intersection, and day, became a party that ended with camping at a skydivers’ event her son was attending that night. In Davis, there was Dan and Boy Scout Troop 66, who bought me a DQ Blizzard in exchange for hearing my story. When I was in service road hell en route to Sacramento, Bruce broke from the pack of aggro cyclists to see what the lonely walker was all about, and donated to the cause on the spot. Meditative? Much of the time. But lonely? Not yet.
At your service: Bruce made a workman's walk worthwhile.
Cricket and the sky parade started the dodge to Dixon.