I hate camping. Hiking, exploring, grilling, campfires, s'mores, yes. Actually sleeping outside, being shower-less, no. I tried. I really did--but I really just want to sleep in a real bed, and take a shower when I wake up in the morning. This is my life. Don't judge me.
The hike we took was gorgeous--up through mini-mountains by Sycamore Creek, to an abandoned copper mine and caves that are now (surprisingly) full of water. I took a lot of pictures of the creek, small waterfalls, wading pools, and flooded washes. Seeing natural, flowing water still seems like an anomaly or small miracle. I nerded out over cool rocks and threw pieces of shale against the trail to see it break across the thin, perfectly parallel layers. I imagined the creatures living in the epeiric sea that created it.
The best part? Boyfriend handed me a leaf, and said, "It's a tree star. Yep yep yep!"
Oi, I melt.
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