While up the hill, I repainted signs for 3 cabins. That counts as work, yes? Here is one of the befores (it was too smoky to care about photographing it afterward – how is that for an excuse?)
I took my baby pumpkin plants up the hill to babysit them. Here they are when we first arrived:
Here they are 4 days later: If they had been left at home, they would have shriveled and croaked, unless a deer ate them first.
We took one short walk. Look – a car with a man-bun.
Parking is at a premium and some people let their car stick out in the already precariously narrow road. People don’t know that by August, the car part eating marmot activity has ceased. Maybe they just feel safer wearing masks.
It was a thrill to be in the green.
Trail Guy said, “Hey Farmer, why are the aspen leaves sticky?” I think the answer was something that meant bug excrement. Trail Guy dropped the leaf and marched onward.
This is a peculiar sight. A smooth boulder is encased in the rough rocks. We didn’t go closer to investigate because this is the time of meat bees/hornets, very aggressively defending their nests in the ground. I do my best to avoid Hornet Holes in the ground.
On Sunday, the air was truly terrible.
It got worse as we headed down the hill.
And in case you are wondering, at the time of these photos, there were no wildfires in Central California. The smoky conditions demonstrate how the pollution travels to the Central Valley. We tend to have terrible air here and get penalized for it, in spite of it being generated by Northern California cities. Those folks love to blame the farmers. Hope they don’t do so with their mouths full.
And here is another platform which used to hold a statue called “The Pioneer”. The plaster statue crumbled. (End of the Trail in plaster was traded with the Cowboy Hall of Fame in Oklahoma City for a bronze version).
There are 2 hills in the Park on the east edge. They were created with the dirt dug to form a recharging basin in the park. The formation is useful as an amphitheater, and one hill has a disk golf “hole”.
When I went to Redwood High School, I used to look through the fence at a little log cabin that appeared to be abandoned. It was. After I grew up and became The Central California Pencil Artist (a self-ascribed title), the Boy Scouts reclaimed it, disassembled it, moved it to Mooney Grove, and reassembled it. I drew it as a fund raiser to help pay for the enterprise. (I wonder if I still have a copy of that drawing. . .)
