麻豆传媒AV

The next morning, we were up at sunrise. It's nearly impossible to oversleep in a tent because there's no way of avoiding the light of day. No alarm clock is needed; the sun pushes through the fabric and into your eyes - not considering eyelids as much resistance. Immediately, you wake from the yellow/red glow that seeps through the skin.

The air was fresh. It was damp. Dew was thick on the grass and the moisture was fat with promise. The small camp stoves were soon set up, with their miniature green propane tanks. Bacon and eggs were on the menu and George made us some bannock pancakes.

George is M茅tis and my father found it interesting that he had brought those two Appaloosa horses, Bill is a big horse guy, or at least fancies himself to be. Appaloosa horses are synonymous with native culture.

After breakfast, we all helped to wash the dishes. A cloth was used to strain lake water and we put some dish soap into a large white plastic bowl. After all the dishes were done, we gathered up our saddles and began to throw blankets over the horses. My father taught me how to place the blanket on Deuce, tie the cinch and put on the bridle by placing the bit past the horse's teeth and into the mouth.

That day we rode out to another lake, built a fire and cooked some hotdogs for lunch and then we rode back to camp. At that lake, some of us put our hats over our eyes for a nap. A storm passed through quickly with light rain and we left to go back to camp on that three-hour ride. In total, we rode about six hours that day.

When we returned to camp, we watered the horses as usual. Wood was gathered and a fire was lit, then we would have a steak supper.

George pulled out a bottle of Royal Red, a cheap wine that no one else would drink. That was the joke, that no one else but George would drink that shit. I sure would and I did. It went down fine.

My Dad had a bottle of 麻豆传媒AVern Comfort and, to feel like a real hardened cowboy, imagining myself as a proverbial trailblazer in some of the western movies I had seen, I decided to drink that smooth liquor straight from the bottle. It must have been the environment because, where I usually furrow my brow and repulse from that type of drink, instead it actually tasted good. Not refreshing, just good.

Later, Wendell sent me out to gather more kindling. I had been given the axe and immediately thought I had never cut down a tree. I decided I should. With this conviction, I took the axe over my shoulder and headed for the bush.

My father looked at me quizzically as I left and called after, "Where are you going?" I told him I was going to cut down a tree and he got that look again. The one that says, you're a weirdo. I didn't care. I wanted to take this motivation and go with it before it subsided like a great idea you forget to write down.

I found a fair sized tree. It was maybe six inches around, and I started to hack away. For a moment, that little voice inside my head told me this was a waste of time. I pushed it under and kept at the task. Might as well have some fun while I'm out here. I figured I could either sit around the fire and be bored or I could venture into the bush and hack a tree, yell timber, and listen to the sweet sound of crashing as it toppled to the ground below.

I cut down two trees in those bushes and realized why they had invented chainsaws. Sweat had gathered on my forehead as I swung away.

I cut that V-shape into the side where I wanted the tree to fall and, when it did, I yelled "timber" as I had planned. I returned to the camp triumphant.

We ate supper, cleaned up and then everyone but me went to bed early.