Can't See the Forest Through the Fog

Monday morning, I woke up at dawn to a stubborn, pea soup kind of fog in Garden Valley. In Boise, which, aside from a few tempestuous summer storms, seems almost devoid of weather in the warmer months, that kind of morning gray is reserved for foul-smelling winter inversions.

Apparently, word is out that Crouch is the most happening party within 100 miles of Boise during the Fourth of July because last weekend in Garden Valley was raucous. Even more so than in years past if you ask me. I imagine some of those who woke up to the thick fog on Monday may have been dealing with their own foggy aftereffects of a long weekend.

Personally, I took it easy.

I floated the Middle Fork of the Payette, watched some old movies and snoozed on the porch. Though I joined the giant crowd in the center of town for Saturday's debauchery (and it is exactly that if you haven't seen the mayhem), I somehow missed the official city fireworks display.

Sunday was just as lazy, although I did manage to get in a few minutes piggy-backing on someone's WiFi in town in order to get some work done that afternoon. Then I weathered one heck of a storm (during which the windows in my car were rather regrettably rolled all the way down).

Once the wind subsided and the rain trickled to a stop, the men of the house made a run up the river with fishing poles in hand. About six miles from Silver Creek Plunge, they were stopped by a guy who told them the road had been blocked by a downed tree and unless they had a chainsaw, they weren't getting any further, and the campers stranded on the other side weren't getting out anytime soon.

When I heard the story, I thought about it for a minute. Stranded. Camping. No phone service. Supposed to be back at work the next morning. Forced exile. It didn't sound half bad.

All weekend, I'd been feeling guiltily liberated by my complete lack of phone service, and yet I still sneaked into town to get on the Internet. I had really wanted to cut myself off from work, but I just couldn't do it completely. And then I thought about what a downed tree could do for my life. Even if just for one measly day.

I actually got up at dawn Monday to drive back to Boise, but the fog was too thick. Instead, I made a pot of coffee, sat on the porch and waited a few hours for the fog to burn off.

I bet if I go back and read Rob Brezny's astrology column in last week's paper a little closer, it'll say something about needing more fog and trees in my life.

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