Welcome to this week’s Reno News & Review.
Hunter and I had a real summer weekend this week. We started Friday night by getting out my 6-inch reflector telescope. I’ll admit, I had to take a nap before dark, but then we were good to go. The patio outside my backdoor, which is the only part of my yard not blinded by Reno’s light pollution, includes about 90 degrees of the northern sky. I’m not going to say we made giant steps into the firmament, but it felt really good to be picking up this old habit again—especially at my son’s request. Cool.
We got up sort of early Saturday and loaded up the car for a camping trip to Gold Lake, a bit south of Graeagle, Calif. We didn’t exactly do it on a whim, but we didn’t do a hell of a lot of planning, either. I was personally looking for something a little more spontaneous since sometimes it feels like my life is scheduled down to the 15 minute increment. Hunter seemed a little stressed that we weren’t ticking items off on a list, so I had to ask him the simple question: Hunter, if we failed to bring anything—tent, extra socks, toothbrush—how would it make this camping trip any less fun?
He chilled, and it turned out all we forgot was tent stakes and pillows. We fished and caught nothing, hiked and didn’t get lost and stargazed and saw stars.
Back to reality, though, in Reno, Nev. This afternoon, I sent him up to Scolari’s for a gallon of milk. He’s plenty old enough to walk the seven-tenths mile and cross McCarran Boulevard by himself, but you know me. I gave him a 15-minute start and then followed him from about a block and a half back. I waited for him outside the store, offered my congratulations and drove us home. Enough adventure for me—he was fine.
Sunday afternoon, and in a few minutes, we’re off to church. I guess I should have written notes on Faith in Nature while we were camping, but you know what they say about all work and no play.