Yesterday, Herman and I decided to escape the 107 temps in Palm Springs, so we packed a picnic lunch and took the tram up the mountain. We found lovely 70 temps, a pristine pine forest, clear skies, and gentle breezes. Lovely.
We spent four hours hiking the trails—five or six miles—mostly up and up and up. Because I carried a twenty-pound pack of food, water, and books, my legs are definitely feeling that climb today. But there were only a few other people on the trails, and the forest was basking in its last radiance of Spring. We saw the usual forest animals, including a few deer.
There is something so satisfying about parking my butt in the shade of a giant pine and reading a good book—which I did for about an hour—with only the forest sounds to accompany the prose. I loved it, and Herman and I have made plans to repeat this at least once per week for the rest of the summer. It is too grand having a forest just a ten minute drive and 15 minute tram ride away from my front door.
The best parts, however, was the snow plants are blooming now. They are these luscious blooms that poke out of the forest floor four or five inches, with a heavenly red hue. Too divine. I first saw snow plants in Yosemite Valley while stoned on acid. I thought I had created it in my drugged state, because I couldn’t imagine anything so beautiful being utterly natural.
Anyway, it was a lovely day, a lovely picnic under the pines, and I shared it with a lovely man. Is that too gay or what???