lightning and dancing in the Owens valley

They came from two directions at our calling in a lightning strike. We sat eating our lunch on the tailgate of the truck directing first, the two Mono county sheriffs who were the first on the scene and seemed mildly amused, and then the Forest Service crews who, after January's fire south of here, seemed to be taking this seriously.

The morning started out with an incredible display of weather and sky on the upper Owens.. Mike radioed me from the river saying I should put on my gum boots and wade across the swampy meadow to come take a look. Since this was our last day, I threw everything in the back of the truck fearing rain and wandered out to the river with my camera.

He was right, it was worth the effort. The upper Owens meanders through Long Valley with views to the Sierra. Storm clouds add to the picture.

Mike was happily fishing and I was knitting when I noticed the sky getting blacker above us. Suddenly a mixture of snow and sleet started coming down on us.Lightning strike about two hundred yards away from us, a clap of thunder sounded over our heads. We both flattened ourselves to the ground, laying on our bellies as the precipitation got heavier. Another lightning strike, another clap of thunder, this time on the other side of the river. We lay there for awhile getting wetter and colder when we finally decided we needed to make a break for the truck. We joke about getting old going out in a thunder storm on a lake in our canoe and getting taken out by lightning. I'm thinking, I'm really not ready to go yet. Mike is thinking, we really do need to make a will. As we get closer to the truck we both smell smoke at the same time. And then we see some puffs rising from the sagebrush where the lightning hit the ground. It's stopped raining/snowing and the brush is really not that wet. So we decide perhaps we should let some know about this. We had to drive out a ways to get cell coverage, but we did, and they came, and thanked us.
So now onto the dancing....
We went down to Independence, CA, population 669, 41 miles south of Bishop on Highway 395, home of the Eastern California Museum.  April 18th was Norman Clyde day. Norman entered our lives in 1992 with a garage sale find. He was buried in there, it just took awhile for us to find him. He made another recent appearance.

This suitcase is a whole other story in itself. Maybe later. But we planned our Spring eastside trip to be able to go to Norman Clyde Day. And what we found was a welcoming community that seemed more than happy to take us in. The museum has it's own little park and the day was warm. Food and drinks were on the agenda.

A Bluegrass band from Bishop was setting up. There was a walk through town and talks to listen to.
Norman Clyde campaign hats were being given away. We met the Baptist minister and his wife, the owner of Ray's Den (the local motel), the retired registrar of voters. And we learned about the Fruitcake Festival. These folks know how to have a good time, they seem to be able to make their own fun.

So the band played and we ate birthday cake and the children danced.

I'm thinking of planning a trip to Independence the second Saturday in December for the fruitcake, we've heard there is some powerful eggnog to go along with it, and they will take all entrants. If I can bake a pie, I guess I could make a fruitcake.

letting kids be kids

This past Friday we led an excursion off the island with the southern California Retties to the Lawerence Hall of Science. I began to wonder who was having the most fun, the kids, or me taking pictures and watching the kids.