Lisa and I took off for the creek last night. We followed the road as far as we could go. The snow is melting quickly, but there’s still several feet blocking the roads when they turn to shade. We ate grilled chicken sandwiches. Ara begged with an exuberance she only finds in the bush. Slinky dug for mice, biting the edges of the rodent nests. It’s been awhile since she has caught anything. I planned a route up one of the peaks. It would have been easy when I was younger. Now I look at the rock carefully. Plan my route around loose boulders and sliding scree, opting for treeline and solid rock. My ankles ain’t what they used to be. Lisa mentions other much harder ridges I climbed. Encouraging me. Supper in the bush was her idea. She makes a good sandwich. We talked about the grizzly we saw here a few years earlier. I confessed I thought it was a man at first. We both laughed. I’ve been down and she knows how to bring me up. As for the mountain: it is like slinky hunting gophers, it’s the digging that counts.