How hard can it be to take a walk every day? That’s what I told myself when I resolved that this year, in 2020, I would go out and walk every day with my camera in hand. It only took seven days to break me down. To be fair, I’ve been sick since the year started, so it’s taken a rather Herculean effort just to keep up with it. Today I woke up feeling crummier than usual and decided, nope, not gonna do it. I took a gander at the sunrise but wasn’t feeling the shout of joy. I sat with my tea and kleenex close at hand and enjoyed the beautiful feeling of being sedentary. Ahh…I was settled in for the morning.

Then God completely outfoxed me. It started snowing, one of those magical soft snowfalls, and it was like the sirens singing with their irresistible song. “Come outside…you must come outside…” I obeyed the imperative and went out.

The first photo is of our glorious Christmas tree. If that doesn’t fill you with delight, contact me and I will refund your deflated hopes and restore to you the curmudgeonly spirit with which you started your day.

As for the rest, as usual, I photographed as I went along, finding some colorful lizards and a sporty little frog on my journey. It would have been too much to ask for more than that. I spiced up the froggie photo on a couple different photo processing apps. You’re welcome.

Snowy Haiku
The snow beckoned me
With soft hands and wintry song.
I dared not say no.

I’ll probably delete this in the morning. All except the frog.

I went outside in my pajamas and slippers this morning to get a photo of the sunrise, as much as we see of it here. Even though I am usually awake at sunrise, I hardly ever go out of my way to see it. Sunrises and mornings are everlastingly hopeful, even after a dark night of tragedy (not that I had one of those last night).

For His anger is but for a moment,
His favor is for a lifetime;
Weeping may last for the night,
But a shout of joy comes in the morning.
Psalm 30:5

Think about uttering a shout of joy next time you see a sunrise – that’ll get you off to a good start.

I got my Daytimer all in order this morning – took out the old sheets from 2019 and replaced them with the untouched purity of the 2020 sheets. This also was a bit of a sunrise moment – it’s a new day, a new year! I’m looking forward to the satisfaction of checking things off my To Do list everyday with a shout of joy.

My walk yesterday doesn’t appear to have made a dent in the bronchitis going on in my lungs, but this did not keep me from going out again this morning in search of Destination Happy (see above photo), whatever that means. I found things and identified them, which made me feel like a bonafide nature lover. Here’s what I found:

I think these might be rabbit prints, but I could be persuaded that they belong to a squirrel.

And here we have a touching moment between two squirrels. They met, chattered, discussed the best places to find food, and then they parted. I was channeling Aragorn as I created this detailed tableau from the two sets of prints.

One of many deer prints I found. I’ve walked in that cemetery during the winter so many times and never once did I look at the ground. This was a day of seeing things that I usually overlook. Allow me to share with you a poem I found recently that I’d like to establish as my blog motto:

God be in my head,
And in my understanding;
God be in mine eyes,
And in my looking;
God be in my mouth
And in my speaking;
God be in my heart,
And in my thinking;
God be at my end and at my departing.
Anonymous, 16th century.

Thank you, Anonymous. I like the way you think.

I’ll probably delete this in the morning, a morning which will start with a shout of joy and hopefully not a lot of coughing.

I might have to start getting a little more clever with my blog post titles. How about this: Day Six of Being Sick. That would draw the sympathetic reader right in, as well as the curious (just how sick is she?). Plus there’s a little bit of alliteration to appeal to the literary minded.

In spite of my diseased state I still went on a walk, having developed a completely unscientific and untested theory that if I took in great gulps of cold air, it would have a purifying effect on my lungs. I even entertained a little animated movie in my head about what this would look like on a microscopic level: the millions of mighty molecules of frigid air swooping into my body and delivering sucker punches to the bad guys and then carrying their dead bodies out when I exhale. I think this could make a pretty good superhero movie.

Up until today, I’ve been lugging around the 70-300mm lens, but today I decided it was time to go back to the 18-55mm lens and give my arms and neck a break. Here I am looking mysterious and otherworldly as I go about with my camera.

Our Christmas tree is outside now, planted in some snow in the back yard so we can still enjoy looking at it. I’m sure you will recognize this as being a branch of a balsam fir that just recently held an ornament or two. I love everything about this photo…

Also captured what happens to purple coneflowers when succumbing to the ravages of winter. A moment of silence, please.

Near the end of my walk I saw something that made me so happy. I hope it makes you happy, too.

I had to trespass on this property in our neighborhood to get one closeup of these beauties, but it was worth it – don’t you agree? Fortunately, no one came running out to chase me away. They had two trees festooned in this manner. Unknown neighbor, I salute thee.

I’ll probably delete this in the morning.

I recently read the book “On Writing” by Stephen King and among other things, he was a big proponent of establishing a habit of writing every day, rather than waiting for the mood (or the muse, as it were) to strike you.

“Don’t wait for the muse. As I’ve said, he’s a hardheaded guy who’s not susceptible to a lot of creative fluttering. …Your job is to make sure the muse knows where you’re going to be every day from nine ‘til noon or seven ‘til three. If he does know, I assure you that sooner or later he’ll start showing up, chomping his cigar and making magic.”

I want to take more photos and do more writing, so I’m combining those things by trying to do a short daily blog about the pictures I take that day. I expect there will be plenty of days in which the muse is hiding, but I’m hoping there will be days when he shows up, chomping his cigar and making magic.

An apartment building is going up across the street from our library. I can see the men working on it from my water aerobics class three times a week. I resented its intrusion at first – how dare they put an apartment building where my favorite parking lot was? I’ve always had a hard time embracing change. Yet I have to admit a fascination with the process that starts with a hole in the ground and ends up as a sound structure in which people can live. A blueprint becomes reality; someone’s math becomes someone else’s living room; my parking lot becomes someone’s home. I guess I can live with that.

I turned around and made my way into the library, passing this charming trio of imperatives on the way. It’s a chant I will no doubt hear throughout the year as I endeavor to meet my Goodreads Book Reading Challenge goal of 100 books in 2020.

And here is a the prize at the end: a book I’ve been eagerly awaiting for a few weeks. I may be posting the fruit of my efforts as I go through it. Or not, if the muse has rejected me utterly in this department.

This was more of a “slice of life” post. Thanks for joining me.

I’ll probably delete this in the morning unless you say “please,” like Westley did.

The world seemed a colorless place today.
The sky was a closed door,
Bolted and shut,
As if guarding all that azure
Behind the clouds.
I looked for some bright hue
And saw a scarlet ball
Perched on a tree, quiet and still.
A sign caught my eye,
Bold proclamation in red!
Vivid memorials in the cemetery
Declared a love not forgotten.
And I remembered,
I remembered what Jesus said.
I read it twice this morning:
Be of good cheer.
Be of good cheer, daughter.
And with good cheer,
I walked back home.

I’ll probably delete this in the morning.

Ever since I discovered the ability to listen to podcasts on my phone, I’ve been joined at the hip with them on my walks. Wither I goest, my podcasts goeth along. But along the way, I’ve forgotten how to listen to the world around me – I walk outside, but I’m not paying attention. This morning, I disconnected from my good friend Podcast, and tuned in to radio of the natural world. It was a relatively warm day in Minnesota (a balmy 35 degrees) and I was surrounded by so much birdsong, it seemed like spring. Naturally, all these birds were hidden. Every time one of them would appear on a branch, by the time my camera swung up to position, the bird had disappeared. I heard the hum of cars and trucks on the freeway in the distance and the musical sound of some jingling bells – maybe wind chimes? I spent most of my time looking at tree tops, admiring their stark and bare beauty against the sky. The photos were all sort of blah, so I did some “enhancing” on Aviary. If you look closely, you can see that a careless chickadee allowed me to capture him in one of these photos.

This is my Father’s world,
And to my list’ning ears,
All nature sings and ’round me rings
The music of the spheres.

I’ll probably delete this in the morning, but maybe not until after breakfast.

We watched the first episode of The Mandalorian last night and I ended up dreaming about it all night long. I just wish I could remember the dream – the only thing that comes back to me is that groups of Mandalorians were wandering about wearing cloaks and looking like monks. Why couldn’t Baby Yoda have made an appearance?

I’m going to endeavor to take more photos this year (famous last words). Here’s the first batch, with old and new Christmas decor. The newest item is the gnome I got from my husband this year. I’ve become quite enamored with gnomes for some reason.

I’ve started the Great Christmas Dismantling, motivated somewhat by the fact that our Christmas tree is shedding needles faster than the Charlie Brown Christmas tree. I hate to put away all these bright things that give our house a great deal of cheer. It’s time to remember these words that Christ spoke to His disciples, and thereby to us: “In the world you will have tribulation; but be of good cheer, I have overcome the world.” John 16:33

I’ll probably delete this in the morning.

We’d been looking forward to hiking at Flandrau State Park in New Ulm because we lived in New Ulm for seven golden years. We loved it there, and Flandrau was a favorite place to go, particularly in the summer for swimming, but we also occasionally went hiking and cross-country skiing at the park. We’ve done quite a few of these hiking club trails now and breezed past the park office at first, but decided to go back and get a trail map, just in case. The cheery park lady told us that the bridge on the hike had been washed out and just recently replaced, so we were good to go. She warned us that there were a couple areas where the signage was poor because the trail had been rerouted due to weather-related issues. Good thing we stopped in.

It was 37 degrees when we arrived to do the 2.8 mile hike – mostly overcast and just a wee bit dreary around the edges. The pool where our kids spent many happy hours was drained. We contemplated how much stuff they must find at the bottom when they drain the pool, including a nice watch that one of our sons lost there just days after he’d received it for his birthday.

Ah, familiar, beloved place
Of hot days, cool waters,
Splashings and laughter,
Of poolside vigilance and the smell of sunscreen.

I walk across the empty sand,
And though the water is gone,
I feel the surge of memories
Rising and slowing my progress,
The resistance of the years
And the glad weight of blessings now grown.

I hear distant voices
As I cross the far side and emerge,
The years dripping off with each step.
“Mom, look!”
I turn and smile…
Verklempt.

Kris went on ahead of me as we started out – I was getting my camera out to take photos, of course. I saw a downed bit of orange plastic netting and thought, “Better be careful – that looks easy to trip over.”

I then proceeded to trip on it and fell flat. I’m blaming it on aging, which is where I cast the blame for most things these days. Kris said it was a very graceful and slow-motion fall, so at least I did it well. No pictures of that – you can probably imagine it.

The trail went close to the Cottonwood River for a while and then peeled off into the woods. At the muddiest parts of the trail, park staff had thoughtful laid down planks to walk upon. Thank you, park people.

Most of the plants were dead or dying – photos were taken anyway. It’s all part of the cycle of life and taking pictures gives me something to do and something for you to look at if you get bored with all these words.

At one point we came across these surprisingly vibrant looking plants, which actually had labels on them so you didn’t have to consult a plant identification book:

Well, at least whoever put those there had a creative streak and didn’t litter the ground with them.

We stopped for a break (and back to our regularly scheduled Clif bars) and looked out over the prairie.

Kris took a moment to read Psalm 19 aloud. Here are the first few verses for your general edification:

The heavens declare the glory of God;
And the firmament shows His handiwork.
Day unto day utters speech,
And night unto night reveals knowledge.
There is no speech nor language
Where their voice is not heard.
Their line has gone out through all the earth,
And their words to the end of the world.

It is good, indeed, to look out upon all that God has made and listen to what is being said. Try it.

Continuing along, we worked out that if we get up to 80 miles by next July 4, we’ll still be on track to finish in five years. This got us wondering if those who finish all the hikes belong to some sort of elite group, meeting for banquets and the like. We’ll let you know.

The trail went uphill for a time, but this is when I discovered what a difference it makes when it’s not hot out. No heart pounding and heavy breathing this time, by golly! Maybe we should do more of these wintry hikes.

It took us about an hour and twenty minutes to finish off the trail and our total number of miles is now up to 49.5. That might be a wrap for 2019 unless we get motivated to get out to a park with our kids while they are back for Christmas vacation.

I’ll probably delete this in the morning, but NOT before giving kudos to my brother-in-law Rich again for putting us together in the park sign photo and the park bench photo. Thanks, Rich!!!

Next Hike: Fort Ridgely State Park

Anniversary Trip Day Four. It was time to return to our regularly scheduled lives, so we packed up and left our lovely cabin in the morning and began the slow meander home. We stopped for awhile in Two Harbors and got sucked into the vortex of a used book store there. This was purely accidental since the outside of the shop advertised arts and crafts and we were lured in unsuspectingly. Once there are books in the equation, one must spend time looking at them. If you don’t understand that, well, sigh… Anyway, we also wandered over to a local coffee shop where the cheerful woman behind the counter asked us, “How can I caffeinate you today?” I’m not a coffee drinker, but in the spirit of throwing caution to the wind on vacation, I had my first pumpkin spice latte. It didn’t impress me too much – too sweet (and this is coming from someone with a ferocious love of all things sweet).

So, on to the our last hike of this trip. By the time we got to Moose Lake State Park, it was starting to sprinkle, so we left our Serious Cameras in the car and just brought our phones. The place was absolutely deserted – the first time in a long time since we’ve had that experience. My legs and knees were still aching from the previous two hikes, so this 2-mile hike was going to be a welcome respite.

The trail was wide and easy.

The sky was dark with threatening rain, which somehow made our secluded hike somber and contemplative. We didn’t talk a lot and we didn’t take many photos. We walked by a largish pond (or was it Moose Lake?) toward the beginning of the hike and hoped to see some wildlife on, in, or above it, but it, too, was deserted.

The whole world was hushed except for the sound of our feet on the path.

We saw various signs with location markings that were probably part of some sort of GPS tracking game. Loons, swans and bears, oh my!

I was amused by this very stern sign – whatever happened to Minnesota Nice?

I would have expected something more along the lines of “Please don’t use your snowmobiles on the trail,” but this gets the job done with only one word and an exclamation point. It’s like a mom made the sign for her kids. I approve.

We passed a little rain shelter and hoped we wouldn’t have to run back to use it later. Kris volunteered to use his knife to make us a little homemade shelter if torrential rains came while we were too far from the shelter. This was a helpful bit of ingenuity. I approve of that, too.

Kris spotted a couple deer, but by the time I looked, it was just the tail end of one of them off in the distance. Alone again, we pushed on, thankful that we weren’t seeing any actual moose at Moose Lake State Park (at least not close up). The silence was broken suddenly by the sound of a text coming to my phone. I was amazed – usually there’s no coverage when you get into the woods. Glory to God and hallelujah – it was a message from a friend of mine about whom I had been very concerned and in much prayer over due to serious health issues she’d been having. My heart had been very heavy over news I had received a few days before and I had wondered if she was still with us. I was thrilled and relieved to hear from her. In a moment, our somber walk had become bright – there was light in the dark day, and solace in the wilderness.

Like cold water to a weary soul,
So is good news from a distant land.
Proverbs 25:25

We got the hike done in 45 minutes – a record for us, which just goes to show you how speedily things can go without cameras and hills. Moose Lake State Park wasn’t a really showy park, but it will always have a special place in my heart.

We’re up to 46.7 miles total now!

I’ll probably delete this in the morning.

Next Hike: Flandrau State Park

Anniversary Trip Day Three. “Twas a Sunday, so we started out the day by worshipping with the good folk at Palisade Baptist Church. We got there early and drove up to Palisade Head. One never tires of the view of Lake Superior.

After church we drove up to Crosby-Manitou, far off the beaten path. (Side note: my husband enjoyed calling it Crosby-Manitou, Nash and Young. If you get that, you are getting on in years like we are.)

In the Hiking Club booklet, the 4.2 mile trail was described as “steep and challenging,” with this caveat: “Due to the strenuous nature of these trails, the [1.2 mile] Benson Lake Trail is offered as an alternative.” There was also some mention of spectacular views on the longer hike, but I had fixated on the word “strenuous.” More than a little intimidated by this dire warning, I had originally suggested that we do the easy BLT and maybe come back later (i.e. never) for the more difficult hike, but completing the hike at Split Rock had imbued me with greater courage and confidence. Bring it on! This confidence may have been misplaced…

It was around 12:15 and 55 degrees when we started out. Kris had hiked here with his sister Karen back in the day and had fond memories of the experience.

The trail was narrow and rough, but there was a pleasing earthiness to it, a greater sense of being truly in the wilderness.

We chatted about church, prayer and the importance of memorization as we walked along, stopping occasionally for photos.

I had noticed these odd splotches of black goo along the path and when we stopped to investigate one, we concluded that these were decayed mushrooms. Kris coined the term “mushroom poop” for these unsightly piles, a term you may freely use when the need arises. You’re welcome.

In fact, there were a lot of mushrooms and other fungi along the way and we still had a fresh enthusiasm about the hike and stopped frequently to capture them with our cameras.

We also came across a little shelter, the inside of which had been heavily marked up with people’s initials and other types of writing. I poked my head in for a closer look and saw that someone had written “Jesus is the answer.” Manna in the wilderness!

Eventually we began to hear the sound of a distant waterfall and the path led downward into the bottom of a canyon where we stopped to enjoy the sight and sound of the waterfall and to have a snack. We had forgotten our Clif bars (gasp!), but had some apples and cheese.

By now, the trail had all but disappeared and in its place was a pile of rocks and boulders that we picked our way over, seeing a trail of sorts resuming up ahead. The going trend was definitely upward and I mentally girded my loins for what would surely be the more strenuous part of the journey, the Humpback Trail. There would be no more easy walking from this point on – the paths were treacherous, often hard to see, and each step forward had to be carefully placed to avoid tripping and/or slipping.

My inner Eeyore reappeared, moaning silently about the arduous climb. My fatigued legs and knees and my pounding heart kept up a steady chorus of complaints, but at last, we reached what appeared to be the top of the hump – praise God! We paused to enjoy the view from the top and then started back down.

Kris wondered aloud if this was to be a one-hump camel or a two-hump one, but I took the position that the term “humpback” clearly referred to the Humpback Whale, which of course would have only one hump. It would be all downhill to the parking lot from here, I thought cheerily and just about then, we encountered the second hump. Another uphill slog ensued. What goes up, must come down, right? And so it came to pass – a little downhill relief… and then another hump. By the 4th or 5th hump (yes, I was counting them), I was beginning to despair and decided I needed to review some fortifying verses. I started out with James 1:12. “Blessed is the man who perseveres under trial, for once he has been approved, he will receive the crown of life which the Lord has promised to those who love Him.” Perseverance – yes, that’s the ticket. Just one foot in front of the other – keep going. Kris walked a little ahead of me, providing the example of forward momentum that I needed. Pauses to catch my breath and allow my heart to slow down became more frequent. I went on to Hebrews 12:1 “Therefore, since we have so great a cloud of witnesses surrounding us, let us also lay aside every encumbrance and the sin which so easily entangles us, and let us run with endurance the race that is set before us.” I had literally just finished that verse when we came to a largish tree across the path, an encumbrance, indeed. “Perseverance and endurance,” I chanted to myself while simultaneously also thinking, “but I cannot go up one more hill.” I did not yet understand what perseverance meant.

The 6th and 7th humps came and went. I stopped at one point and indulged myself for a moment with the thought that I would just stay there. But this was akin to being in labor to deliver a baby – there’s no stopping that train. I looked ahead, and there Kris was, waiting patiently for me and encouraging me along the way.

One foot in front of the other. The 8th hump was the steepest and longest one yet and I had long since stopped caring about taking any photos of anything – I was in pure survival mode. The hike had become Brutal (which starts with B and rhymes with C, which stands for Crosby…). Seeing the top of the hill ahead, I actually put on a burst of speed and went past Kris to get there. As I caught my breath, I looked around and saw the aforementioned spectacular views.

And just like that, God renewed my mind. I underwent a transformation of both body and spirit up there. As I started down the hill, I was just as tired as I had been before, but now I knew what perseverance was: I would keep going with a cheerful heart, no matter how many other little humps were ahead of me; I would quit despairing and do the work without complaining. I left Kris behind this time and strode down with a bounce in my step. And this time, there were no more humps to climb. It wasn’t long before I glimpsed the parking lot up ahead.

In the movie “West Side Story,” Tony meets Maria and later croons: “All the beautiful sounds of the world in a single word: Ma-ri-a!” I kid you not, when I saw that parking lot, I sang with fervor: “All the beautiful sounds of the world in a single word: park-ing-lot!” Checking the phone app, this hike was the equivalent of 51 flights of stairs. When Kris caught up with me a couple minutes later, I told him that I felt both exhilarated and exhausted. Crosby-Manitou State Park, you made me a better person. But I’ll never do that hike again!

We’re up to 44.7 miles now and Kris’s goal of getting up to the 50-mile mark this year is looking very doable. One more hike tomorrow on our way home!

I’ll probably delete this in the morning.

Next Hike: Moose Lake State Park

Anniversary Trip Day Two. Anytime you can be anywhere near Lake Superior on a hike, it’s a plus. I had been nervous about this hike, our longest one yet, so I needed all the pluses on the ledger that I could get. When we got to the park, it was about 63 degrees and sunny – couldn’t have asked for nicer weather.

The first part of the trail goes right down to a stony beach, the kind of place where if you listen carefully, you can hear the flat stones calling out “Pick us up and skip us over the waters!” We discovered that rock skipping is not like riding a bike, but I think things might have improved if we had stopped to practice more.

With a lot of walking ahead, skipping rocks took on a very low priority. This beach also gave us our best view of the lighthouse. Click.

And some people out on the water in kayaks. Click.

And an island. Click.

Stones. Click.

And as we went on from there, much flora. Click. Click.

So much clicking was going on that when a couple women came out of their campsite onto the trail, they remarked, “Oh, you’re photographers!!” Well, not in the National Geographic sense, but in some entry-level strictly amateur way, yes.

After an early uphill jaunt, we came out to the place where the trail was also a bike path, wide and paved. It’s actually easier on the feet to walk on grass, so we avoided the asphalt when possible.

More clicking as we each found things by the sides of the path that appealed to us as being photo-worthy.

By the time we got to the end of the bike path, the Hiking Club trail took a sharp turn and we headed back toward the lake. I had been promising myself that when we got to the turn, I’d sit down and give my legs a rest at the very first bench, which turned out to be an old wooden one overlooking Crazy Bay about a half mile after the turn. I found out that Kris had been making promises to himself about breaking for a Clif Bar when we got halfway, so we were able to fulfill both our promises at the same time. Along the way, we enjoyed some witty repartee about Clif bars and hunger pangs:

Kris: “I felt my first hunger pang about a half hour ago. It was so loud, I thought you’d hear it.”

Lynn: “Oh, that? I thought it was a bird. A Pang-Bird.”

Kris also observed that our Clif bar habit was going to start provoking a Pavlovian response – the mere sight of one would make us want to start hiking. This was all warm-up for what I considered to be the most brilliant Clif bar remark of the day. As we were munching appreciatively on our blueberry (K) and apricot (L) bars, Kris noted, “Clif bars are the lembas of the modern age.” Quotable stuff, people! Clif needs to sit up and take notice.

When we got up to go, our bodies protested and we had a contemplative discussion about aging. In the midst of this discussion, we came across a battle-scarred old birch tree. It was hard to believe that such a ravaged tree could still be alive, and yet green leaves adorned some of the branches.

What an apt metaphor for the aging process when the young trunk and bark that we started out with becomes worn, scarred, weak and like a shield with holes in it. But we do not lose heart – for though our outer man is decaying, our inner man is being renewed day by day (2 Corinthians 4:16). Our inner man is still green and renewing.

I had proclaimed a moratorium for myself on photo taking after our break – time to keep a steady pace and push through to the end. Kris didn’t take that announcement very seriously – he knows me too well. Two minutes later I spotted a leaf that I just HAD to get a photo of.

We came to a place where we could veer off the path to go to a lookout at Corundum Point. Kris sailed on in while I walked behind him trying to tell myself that it would be worth the extra walking. However, we came to place where we realized that the Point was up on a cliff way above us, involving a switchback and some fierce uphill climbing. Conundrum at Corundum Point! I had a quick consultation with my knees on the matter and the vote was unanimous: NO. ABSOLUTELY NOT.

Back to the trail. We figured we were about a mile from the end by now and I remarked that I was getting my second wind. And then we came to the Steep Stairs of Doom. A young family was going up the steps ahead of us and their toddler was using his hands to help him get up the steps, it was so steep. I did likewise and although it felt a little silly, it helped ease the pressure on my knees (and brought great amusement to the toddler).

We could almost smell the finish line by now. We crossed back over the stony beach and then saw a shortcut to our parking lot – yea! Wrong parking lot – back to the trail. Not much further along, we saw the correct shortcut to the parking lot, which turned out to be another fake-out. Back to the trail. The third shortcut was the charm – finally reunited with Madam Blueberry, our trusty steed.

My phone app says we went up and down the equivalent of 26 flights of stairs. Two and a half hours of hiking, 5.8 miles (more, really, but we only get credit for the official number listed for the hike) and a grand total now of 40. 5 miles. Fist bump!

I’ll probably delete this in the morning..

Next Hike: George H. Crosby-Manitou State Park