You are Nuts

Before we left Snowflower, I forgot to share a most humorous story.

Our family from Sacramento visited us the weekend we stayed in that gloriously beautiful forested preserve. Being in a forested area, it was rather natural that the wildlife was quite abundant.

We saw animal tracks and scat everywhere (not literally, yuck), including raccoon, deer, coyote, and maybe even bear. Ooooh, scary. They are known to be in the area, you know. Don’t leave your ice chest unattended overnight or you may find your hotdogs and Hersey’s bars munched and your root beer guzzled. They like root beer. Just ask the A&W bear.

As we relaxed, only 20 yards from the lake, all of a sudden we heard a loud bang. It sounded like some prankster had thrown a rock at our roof. Then a few minutes later, boom! again. And again and again and again every few minutes. There really wasn’t much we could do, once we spotted the culprit.

It was a squirrel, and the “rocks” were pinecones. He was busily chewing at the base of each pinecone, releasing it from the tree and dropping it, quite literally in one case, on our heads.

He was relentless in his pursuit to destroy our vehicle rooftops. And his shenanigans cut our evening short, after one of his missiles landed directly on our son-in-law’s new car.

Oh my, if Dale and Ken could have gotten ahold of that squirrel, Tinker might have gotten a real squirrel to add to her squirrel obsession, er, collection of toys, I mean.

Not to be beat by a mere rodent, as the pinecones hit the ground, Ken scurried to collect each one he saw drop—six in all. Needless to say, the squirrel saw his hard work being stolen, and he gave Ken the worst scolding I have ever heard from such a little creature.

Over the past few weeks, those heavy, metal denting, sap-laden pinecones have been drying out, under Ken’s careful watch. They are now giving up their prize—gloriously tasty pine nuts.

Oh, the pesto we can make. Dale, I’ll have to save you some, for the trouble you have endured because of one pesky little squirrel and trying to get that dent fully out of your roof. We love you, and honest, we aren’t laughing at you. We are laughing with you. If it helps, you can show these pictures to the insurance company!

Love and hugs,

Jenni

Home Sweet Home

The past month has seemed like a blur, we’ve been so busy. When we arrive at a destination, I have all these great notions to get all this writing done, plus tons of other things. But all my body wants to do is sleep, in an attempt to recuperate from traveling.

Different elevations and different weather patterns have also worked their unrelenting “magic” on my oversensitive joints and bones, my oversensitive body. After spending the last week at 6,000 feet, I now know that that is not the elevation for me. There’s not enough oxygen up here in the crisp mountain air.

One good thing this past week has been that the humidity has been very low. There is so little moisture in the air, but then that has led to daily nose bleeds and contending with dust, dust, and more dust.

This is our last evening at Snowflower Lake Thousand Trails Park. We had a nice dinner of steak and sautéed vegetables. The coach is in relatively decent shape, almost ready to roll in the morning. So I actually have an hour to spend on my writing.

Even though we are not organized, yet, and my body complains so, I still love our home on wheels and the life we have chosen.

Love and blessings,

Jenni

About Two Puffs

Having nowhere to be until August 5th, at first we decided just to head toward Sacramento and see what happens. I had been trying to get internet service for some time, without luck. Then we decided to just call RPI and see what they could do for us, since we are members.

I told the RPI specialist that we did not have an internet connection, so I could not find a park on my own. Could she please find something between Redding and Sacramento for us? After tossing around a few ideas and her making some side inquiries, we had to widen our search both toward the coast and toward Nevada. There just wasn’t anything available along the I-5 corridor.

We termed this new way of deciding where to go, “RV roulette.” Letting someone else or fate or whatever decide where we will go next. Another way to play would be to lay a map out flat, close your eyes, and point.

The roulette way of life isn’t new to us. When Ken and I were first together, he worked two jobs, while I worked one and was raising two kids as a single mom. We often played movie roulette by showing up at a theatre and seeing whatever was playing next. Sometimes we saw some really bad movies, a few times we walked out they were so bad, but mostly we had a great time and saw some good movies we otherwise would not have chosen.

The RPI specialist gave us two choices: One toward the coast and one toward Nevada. Since the fires have been especially bad this year, and it definitely looked worse to the west, we decided that heading east was the better option.

We got general directions and headed for Snowflower RV Resort, with optimism in our hearts and not a sign of anxiety in mine (see post from a few days ago). Little did we know how far it would be or that we would be climbing to over 6,000 feet before we got there, well after dark. Maybe we should have asked a few more questions, but then we would have changed our minds, and I am very glad to be here. It is overwhelmingly beautiful and peaceful amongst the trees, and we have a spot right on the lake. Being in a high fire risk area, campfires are not allowed. Plus none of the smoke from all the forest fires has reached this far, so the air is crisp and clean.

The view from our door.

Since I’ve been able to log on to the internet, I’ve since found out that a bad fire started along the I-5 corridor, where we had just come from, in the Shasta-Trinity National Forest. The area has been choked with smoke. Maybe that’s why God directed us away from Bushytail.

Speaking of the forest fires, our last day in Yreka, we had breakfast at Black Bear Diner. On our way out, an older gentleman saw that our truck had Oregon plates, so he asked, “Are you coming from the north? How far until the end of the smoke?”

“About two puffs,” Ken replied.

As the gentleman walked away chuckling, he said, “There’s always one in every crowd.”

Peace and love,

Jenni