Blue sky greetings, hikers!

It’s been raining for the last four days.  The heaviest of the showers barreled through here the day and night before yesterday and again last night.  Bucketfulls, hikers. 

Who among you has stretched out in your warm, dry sleeping bag while the elements pelted your shelter with an infinitely sustainable supply of raindrops? 

Who among you has congratulated himself for taking the trouble to seek out the highest ground upon which to erect his shelter?

And who among you has been the humbled beneficiary of Mother Nature’s comeuppance when she decides that that the high ground you so carefully selected, that you were so immensely proud of finding, just ain’t gonna be high enough?

Yeah, me too.  Agnes did the best she could, more than I dared ask of her.  But hey, there’s a reason they call these places “swamp.”

But today, every thing is greener, more vital, more alive.  This soggy morning, a thousand red-winged blackbirds have lighted in the canopy of live oaks, and their squawks and chirps and like forms of ceaseless avian commentary are broadcasting the weather report.  “All clear for the week ahead, a good time for foraging, flying and for you, earthbound human, a good week for hiking on the Florida Trail.”

A good week to be swallowed whole and alone by a steamy, wet forest.  A good week, indeed.

A Wringing Wet Cheers from the Florida Trail, Mike

“God, I love it so.” – Patton