The Mountain

 Since we postponed the trip to visit my parents, Beloved Husband and I decided to have a little adventure. We chose to go climb Guadalupe Peak (which we had climbed twice already, years ago), and we thought, let's camp at the campsite on the mountain. We'd only camped at the base of the mountain before; camping up on the mountain would require carrying tent, accoutrements, food, and extra water up the trail. We planned out what we would need, packed our backpacks, and off we went.

It was... quite the climb.

The trail was familiar in places -- didn't we take a family photo right there? I know Cherished Friend and I stopped for a rest over there. I know we have a picture of one or two of the Offspring sitting on that very rock --  and yet it was so steep, so long, and so much more difficult than I remembered. (Granted, nine years had passed since the last time we'd gone to the summit.) We had to rest frequently. The sun was strong and the breeze was small. I was determined, though. And we did. 

Beloved Husband told me afterward that he was waiting for me to throw in the towel and decide to turn around and go back. That never crossed my mind, though. The plan was to get to the top, eventually. And we succeeded.

It was a worthwhile trip. I am glad I did it, even if I didn't necessarily enjoy the hike. (At all.) It was the first time Beloved Husband and I had planned a trip together in a long while, and it was good to do something together. And there was a lot of satisfaction in not having to think much, or to do anything except hike and rest. It was a slightly bittersweet journey, with reminiscences of earlier days juxtaposed against the knowledge that it's unlikely I will ever climb to that peak again.

The view from the top was spectacular. The area is so much greener than usual -- the heavy rains that we have had recently have caused everything to bloom spectacularly. Glorious. I will hold on to that view in my mind's eye for a long, long time. 

Trail.

View from the campsite.

Views in all directions.

Lovely tree.

Trail fit for a mountain goat.

Spectacular.

Glorious.

So green.

Bridge.

Very plummet-y bit near the top.

There it is!

Peak.

The end.

Salt Flats

First time I have ever seen them full of water. 

Highest Point in Texas

Scenic

Boat, Oceanside

 When Pandemic despair begins to creep in, we have some lovely views of Oceanside as consolation. 

Photos Copyright 2021, Mediocria Firma.

All rights reserved. Used with gratitude.

Postponed

 Herself speaks.

I awoke this past Saturday to a lengthy text from my lovely father (whose texts are always lengthy). Beloved Husband and I had been planning to travel to see him and Mom shortly. His message, though, expressed concern about the delta virus and the health of everyone involved (those of us traveling, and those of us being visited), and recommended that we postpone the trip. 

Alas.

He is right, I know. The delta variant is of significant concern, and despite the fact that we are all vaccinated, the risks are too great to take a 9-hour trip through three different airports and on several planes with hordes of strangers with unknown COVID status.

And so we postponed.

I have Many Feelings: worry about the risk of the delta variant; concern about the frail health of my parents, who are both in their 80s, and about being able to see them in person again; sadness about the fact that in postponing this trip, I am also acknowledging that it is not safe to travel to Florida to see Cherished Friend any time soon; and above all, anger. 

It is more than mere anger, though. It is deep, frustrated, impotent rage at the people who will not step up and do what needs to be done to protect others and themselves. Anti-maskers. Anti-vaxxers. Conspiracy theorists. Politicians and individuals who have made a public health issue into some kind of warped freedom issue. No. This is not political. It is personal. Time for you all to give a shit about your fellow human beings for a change. But no. 

I wonder whether I will ever not be angry at People again.

I wonder when I will see my parents, my siblings, my closest friend, in person again. 

I know it could be worse. Pandemically speaking -- knock wood -- things have mercifully gone fairly well. 

Still. I am not sure how long we are capable of bearing this weight of anger and grief and frustration, before a sense of hopeless will begin to creep in.

It's a silent, socially distanced, internal struggle. 

One day at a time. 

Mystery 'Pillar

What are these caterpillars? One was outside. Three were IN THE HOUSE. 

NO, sirs/madames. Stay outside where you belong.