Making Space
Well past the terminus of our 2022 Humpday season, we find ourselves on the eve of Thanksgiving. Faithful readers may recall that among the litany of bylaws, traditions, habits, and regulations amassed in the history of Humpday, one of the more recent amendments regards Thanksgiving. On the eve of this holiday, our fearless adventurers are requested and required to undertake a sacred pilgrimage to clear out some blubber, in a quantity at least wishfully sufficient to accommodate the morrow’s Feast.
So it was that D, S, and SM met at the traditional location: the Coalton Trailhead. And there, accompanied by November’s traditional weather, did our fearless adventurers traverse the prairie mesa along the Meadowlark Trail.
Along the way: dry grass, turbulent clouds, light upon the mountains, a cow here and there, and one other traveler with his dog. The traveler was bundled head to toe against the elements. The dog, predictably, was not, and seemed, by its hapless and pitiable countenance, to regret not having worn a sweater or two.
Our intrepid explorers however were suitably layered against the elements, and a mostly pleasant conversation ensued, except when wending westward on the twisty trail, at which times did blustery
Zephyrus dominate the conversation, shouting and bellowing and roaring about itself, if somewhat incoherently.
Also there was one particular cow who stood guard alongside the trail, eyeing our fearless adventurers rather suspiciously. Thankfully, our heroes’ deferent body language and downcast eyes seemed to soothe its bovine trepidation, whence it allowed our thrifty threesome to pass unharmed, and returned to its dry and windswept salad.
And so it went, three-ish miles into the wind and fading sunlight, when finally upon returning to the trailhead, and with newfound space in stomachs, minds, and hearts, the evening concluded. All in all, another successful BNO.
Happy Thanksgiving ya’ll.
