Thin slashes of crimson pried openings between the dark, angry clouds clashing overhead. Indeed, the sun was rising behind the roiling storm. A swirling wind buffeted the trees, ripping and tearing at their stunning spring gowns of white and pink blossoms. It was an inauspicious beginning for a morning hike in the foothills. Predictably, a pounding rain flashed through the valley but spent itself quickly. Fifteen minutes later, the pavement was already drying.
I had intended to meet up with a group of like-minded hikers, but by the time I reached the trailhead, I discovered that the group leader had cancelled the hike. He was rightfully concerned about bipeds tromping on wet, muddy, overused foothills trails. But as my readers may guess, the trail beckoned like a piece of Belgian chocolate. The morning air was crisp and freshly scrubbed. The road was not wet. I’d just walk a little ways up the trail. If it was too wet, I’d be a good girl and return to the car. It was not wet at all. There had been only enough rain to tamp down the dust. What’s more, I had the whole thing to myself.Yes! Thank you Nobles for your noble gift to Boise.Interesting! I had been up this trail at least twice before and never noticed this little concrete bunker, nestled against the hillside just 20 feet from the path. I guess it’s usually camouflaged by bushes and brambles.But not so hidden after all. Maybe I’m just not that observant. There’s mischief afoot already. I wonder what pesky critters these will become.High above the city, I basked in solitude. The wind, my only companion. It wasn’t till I was on my way back, that civilization began to appear in the form of cyclists and a few couples with their dogs. It always amazes me that within minutes of a valley filled with 360,000 or more people, I can find delicious pockets of solitude.