Well, it could be explained, but that doesn't mean it should be explained
This evening at our tiny house, on the coast of Maine, there is a beautiful autumn breeze gently but persistently swirling around outside. It's chilly but not too cold, and the air smells like leaves and ocean and earth. The stars are hiding behind thick clouds, and somewhere, not so far behind, winter can be heard whispering a distant hello.
It's the perfect temperature that reminds me just how nice it was to feel a cool breeze on my bum when I did my business outside. It's poetic!
This also reminds me of part of a post I put up back in March 2013, from the first (but not the last) hailstorm we encountered on our hike:
The tarp bowed downward as a huge collection of hail amassed quickly in the center. Dumptruck, the only one still wearing shoes and raingear, stood up to dislodge the pool of hail, and it waterfalled over the side of the tarp. The wind ripped the tarp upward at the same moment, and our lackluster securing technique came back to bite us in the butt, as one corner untied itself and the tarp flew upward like a gleeful green sail. Dumptruck jumped up and ran out into the rain and hail to tie it back down, while Apollo and I stayed dry in the tent, feeling guilty and grateful. Dumptruck appeared a moment later, water freezing to his raingear, and announced that he was going to bed, 5pm be damned. Apollo and I heartily agreed.
But first, I had to pee.
As I crouched behind a thin clump of rhododendrons, hugging a tree for dear life as hail pinged off my bare backside, I thought to myself, "I've had worse Mondays than this."
I can only hope one day you get to experience the rare loveliness that is a nice breeze 'round yer privates, known to all hikers.
This is unrelated to the post, but one of our friends, Coolie McJetpack, recently sent these photos to us, from when we ran into him in the 100 Mile Wilderness. I can't think of a particular post they could belong to, so I'll just put them here!