Forest fire sky
“Do you want to camp this coming weekend?” I asked Brenna several days ago.
“Can we ride the motorcycle?” she asked in return.
“Yeah,” I affirm, “for sure.”
“Oh yea,” she said with drawn out enthusiasm. So I knew it was a go.
Or so I thought. Yesterday she was invited to a B.S.U. football game with one of her school friends and now she’s indecisive. I let her know it’s time to choose.
“I think I want to camp,” she concludes after considering it for a while.
That was a close one. She’s at the age where I know I’m on borrowed time against the pull of peers and pre-teen predilections. I am glad I won this day since I already bought food and packed the motorcycle.
These little trips are a highlight of my life. I have in mind an easy ride to somewhere along the Boise River North Fork where I know if it’s busy we can cross the bridge to Barber Flat that doesn’t allow automobiles.
It is a typical late summer day in Southern Idaho as we begin up Highway 21 — hot under a smoke hazed sky.