“GRANNY CLAMPETT” I AM NOT

Mike at Skinner Canyon

Can you believe it?! Two days ago, our high temps were still in the 70s. Today, it’s a chilly 46, and we have an overnight winter weather advisory. We had first fire of the season in our little stove last night, and today we brought in the space heaters for our rooms. 

Monday (Oct. 23), Mike had to replace a geocache in a remote location, so he took his gun and his dog – just in case – and they returned with some birds. After being unable to hunt for the first three weeks of this month, I was pleased for his success.

Steep

I was not so pleased when he told me that as he was leaving the area, he ran over a squirrel. It seemed wasteful to leave it, he said, so he picked it up and brought it home. I was less than impressed, but that old southern boy wanted squirrel for supper. I have dealt with rabbit in the past but never squirrel. I didn’t know how to fix it, and what’s more, I didn’t want to. It was terrible – altogether the worst meal I have prepared in years. I just don’t have the knack of preparing vittles. I pray he doesn’t come home with a ‘possum.

Bess waiting patiently

Tuesday afternoon, with rain in the forecast, Mike decided to hike an area known as Skinner Canyon with the goal of picking up some geocaches. Bess and I went along to keep him company. I thought the hike was difficult. Descending is as dangerous as ascending – perhaps more so. Mike does it with an alacrity developed since youth. My feet are short but seem to tangle with each other and stumble over anything and nothing. And I kept thinking that what goes down must eventually go back up, and of course, that was the case. At any rate, it was wonderful that Mike felt like going.

Sometimes the caches aren’t easy to find. “Well, let’s go,” said Mike after hunting five minutes at one cache site, but as I turned to leave, I noticed the soil around a sagebrush was well trampled. “Wait a minute,” I said; “others have looked here.” Sure enough! Mike spotted the cache and logged it.

The stickery place

A cache in a hole

At another cache site full of branches and stickery things, he hunted diligently while I stood back. I finally climbed in to help, but we weren’t successful. “Well, let’s go,” said Mike. And just then a certain tree caught my eye. As I stepped aside to examine it, Mike spied the cache – not in that tree but the one beside it.

[Granny’s name on the Beverly Hillbillies was Daisy May Moses, but if I had called her "Granny Moses," I doubt you would know to whom I refer. She was Jed Clampett’s mother-in-law, not his mother. Mostly they just called her “Granny.”]