Same Stuff

Same stuff, different day. Bigger log. Rick pops up like a gopher from his side of the silver fir as I snap the picture. We’re back on the PCT, chewing our way north. A gray jay lands in a nearby tree, cocking its head as Pam hands out M&Ms. It picks up a wood chip from our ax chopping and takes it up to a limb. Sorry buddy, not food.

Hot, even in the deep hemlock woods. Feels like fire weather. Driving back this evening, sky to the south is hazy with smoke from fires in Oregon. A moon just over half rises.

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