What I did this summer #3

This is the last installment of boring summer doldrums photos, I promise. If you're really into it, though, there are more in the two previous posts. Start with "What I did this summer #1" and work your way up.

Photo 11: Mr. Wren hits the long curve on the homeward stretch. At this point we'd walked about 21/2 miles -- not far for you athletic folks who walk or jog frequently and go for distance, but quite a handy jaunt for both of us gimpy types. I figure as we regain strength, muscle and endurance, we'll add distance naturally. Already we're walking far more and for greater distances than I'd have believed two months ago.

Some years back, when Mr. Wren was still backpacking way up into the high country, he asked for walking sticks, as he'd heard they were great for stability. I got him some for his birthday. They didn't get much use, unfortunately, as he was disabled not long after.

But now, those fancy sticks are making themselves worth the initial outlay of cash. Mr. Wren normally uses a cane to assist his walking. But when we're out walking for all the good things it brings, he uses those walking sticks. And man, can he move out. When he's warmed up and feeling good, it's just like old times -- I have to trot to keep up. To help me with that, he bought me my own set of sticks a couple of weeks ago. Mine are about a foot shorter than his.

Since my rheumatoid arthritis isn't actively flaring these days -- I deal mainly with morning stiffness and, oddly, sore feet whether I've been walking or not -- the fine walking sticks still feel a bit awkward to me. They do provide extra balance, however, and the rhythm of walking with them, arms working in tandem with my legs, feels good. I like 'em. I figure I'm conditioning for cross-country skiing, come winter (and assuming actual snow falls this year). Or maybe snowshoeing. Perhaps that's a bit ambitious, considering a three-mile walk on a nice, gently sloped trail wears me out. But I like to be optimistic.

Photo 12: Isn't this a nice thistle-head? There was a patch of these by the trail -- about waist high, touched by sunlight in an otherwise shadowy green copse, looking to me like big, gaudy stars. I had to snap a pic because that whimsical, dry thistle made me smile.

Photo 13: The woods to either side of the trail are composed mainly of a variety of oak trees and shrubs, Ponderosa and sugar pines. A little higher up, the oaks peter out and tall, rustling cedar trees and the Steller's jays that live in them join the pines. The understoryby the trail is composed mainly of crispy, dry grass, toyon, broom, manzanita and poison oak. Where there is water, there's blackberry bramble.

Oh, and there are rattlesnakes. I'm hoping that one morning soon, we'll see one sunning itself on the trail and I can take a photo. From a distance, of course. A longggg distance. I have zoom.

Note the dark mass high up in the pine tree on the left in Photo 13. Photo 14 shows it close up. It looks like a huge nest. Mr. Wren thinks it might be a squirrel nest -- there are gray squirrels everywhere -- but it seems to me that if it is, then we'd see a lot more honkin' big nests in the trees. But this is the only one we've seen, here or anywhere else. Any naturalists out there who might know what sort of creature builds a huge nest like this? It looks like it has a hole in one side as an entrance and exit, it's made of sticks and ... green pine needles? Or maybe the shaggy look is from horsetails? (see installment #2, below) And it's attached to some crossing branches. It's very cool.

Maybe tree elves live in it. Heheh.

Photo 15: End of the trail. Just another 50 yards from where I shot this photo of the orchard-covered hill up ahead is the parking lot for the trailhead. When we get to the Celica, both of us groan all the way down into it (it's sadistically low-slung) and then we head off for the reward -- a nice cup of chai and sometimes, a breakfast out. Walking most mornings has been a real spirit lifter for both of us. We're losing weight, we're waking up, we're moving. For Mr. Wren, this is almost like a miracle, as he has barely been able to walk from one end of the house to the other for that last couple of years. Now, with a little more than 40 pounds off his frame (and he's still losing) he can walk three miles. And he wants to. That's the icing.

As for me, I'm still not smoking, I'm still on the patch and I'm still dieting. I'm losing weight much more slowly than Mr. Wren (the curse of a female physique, I'm told) but I am slimming down. Even when the pounds seem to stick, I've noticed changes in their distribution since we started walking. My "always fit" jeans are getting loose. The cat has a lot more room on my lap. It's all good.

What I did this summer #2

OK, more photos.

Photo 6: About a mile up the trail from Smith Flat, where we started this morning, the nice, neat, paved portion of the El Dorado Trail ends and turns to dirt. The surrounding countryside quickly gets up close and personal. Walking this part of the trial makes me think of the many, many hikes Mr. Wren, me and the kids took back when we were all younger and full of vinegar. We never hiked groomed trails, just dirt roads and, sometimes, no roads at all, and we usually hiked carrying day-packs and fishing gear, because Mr. Wren's philosophy was "What's a hike without fishing?" We were always on our way to a good fishing hole. Of course, "good" was relative. More often than not, we didn't catch much. Fishing was an excuse to be out there, watching the great blue herons, getting poison oak and being far, far away from the civilized world.

Photo 7: This is a view to the south from the unimproved trail. What's south? Jackson, Sutter Creek, Angel's Camp (the fabled setting for Mark Twain's great story, "The Celebrated Jumping Frog of Calaveras County), and eventually, Calaveras Big Trees and Yosemite. I'll save that hike for another time, I think.

Photo 8: The trail gets wilder and narrower, with horsetails and blackberry brambles closing in on both sides. The horsetails (the bushy, feathery greenery at shin-level) were a surprise. I've seen them growing much higher up in the Sierras, but had never encountered them so close to home. The blackberries are ripe but mostly picked over by the birds and other small animals. They're hard to pick without gauntlet gloves. The thorns are unforgiving.

Photo 9: Did I say drier? Wilder? Depends on where you're standing on the trail, it seems. Here, perhaps a half-mile from the start of the dirt trail, are cattails growing on swampy ground and, a pretty picture fit for a postcard, a nice red barn glowing in the morning sun.

Photo 10: This solemn fellow popped his head up from just beyond the brambles and regarded us calmly as we walked by. He was overseeing a small herd of Barbados sheep, three times their size and quite kingly. Llamas are fairly common around the county. Some people keep them for pets, others for their utility as pack animals. Seeing them, so odd and out-of-place, always makes me smile.

More to come ...

What I did this summer #1

Here's what I've been up to lately.

Photo 1: Been goofin'. Me at 2 a.m., playing with the camera instead of sleeping. Who needs sleep?

Photo 2: Been cookin'. In the wok are yellow squash from the garden, mushrooms, bits of sweet red pepper, garlic, and a generous sprinkle of cinnamon, cloves, cardamom and cracked black pepper. 'Twas a big hit with grilled chicken breasts and a cool green salad.

Photo 3: Been paintin'. Walls in the main room are now a nice blueish-green which shifts with the light to a sort of sagey green in the afternoon and evening. It's the first time in 10 years the Wren's Nest has been given a fresh coat of paint, and I'm happy with the result. We painted the living room and the kitchen, too. Not white. Not cream. Robin's egg blue in the living room and bright yellow and dark blue in the kitchen. I love color. It took us the best part of a week to do; my Mom came up and helped us. She was appalled by my color choices, particularly in the kitchen, but decided she liked them after they were up on the walls. "You're braver than I am," she said. Mr. Wren likes it all.

Photo 4: Been walkin'. We trekked higher up the El Dorado Trail over the last couple of days, following it up past Placerville toward the Wren's Nest, which is still several miles further up the mountain from where these shots were taken. The terrain on this part of the trail is grassier, more open in places, a little wilder and a whole lot drier than the Placerville portion.

Photo 5: We've been trying to figure out what these yellow wildflowers are. They're everywhere along the trail, adding brightness to the sun-bleached grasses.

Blogger, the booger, won't let me download more than five photos at one time. So check the next installment for more, which will be above this one... you'll have to read from the bottom up. Or something.