It’s fun to say it like that, isn’t it? A rallying cry, or something a pirate would yell. Yarr! Bandelier!
I’m on this new kick of visiting the Parks in the late afternoon/early evening, so the light for photos is better. When I visited Fort Union National Monument (New Mexico) a few days ago, it was exactly the right time for someone to play “Taps” on the trumpet, which only added to the moodiness of the place.
I’ve been on the road a few days, and I have a good feeling about this Scamp. I’ve had no major mishaps, no losing my iPhone on the trail, no killer bee stings, no potentially dangerous Elvis-obsessives, no getting locked out of Sadie and crying in an Applebee’s parking lot, no need to turn around and head home for repairs.
Or maybe my standards for a “good” Scamp are now incredibly low because of all that! Ha ha!
Because I’m impetuous and restless and have the luxury of being self-employed, I’m hitting the road today. (My mother once said, in response to my momentary musing about getting a proper day job: “You’d never last. You’d be the crabby office worker who always had her door closed.” My mother is a wise woman.)
This will be my last San Diego Zoo post for a while, I promise. I don’t even like zoos – they make me sad, with all the captives on display for the humans – but this zoo in particular is a photographer’s dream. I posted here about animal cuteness, animal texture, and this time it’s mostly flora, with flamingos thrown in for good measure. Because, you know, flamingos.
At most National Parks, dogs aren’t allowed on trails that go into the parks. Meaning Sam the Wonder Pup does a whole lot of waiting.
I haven’t written much about my Southern Scamp from last year. It was an interesting trip, with plenty of beauty and kitsch and hospitality. (And barbecue. Obviously.) But there were also some odd moments. Creepy, even.