Sad Times, Lovely Drive

Well, we got the sad news that my daughter's last surviving Grandpa had suddenly been hospitalized and passed away. Unfortunately my husband can't get away from work and must also remain at home to care for the animals.  So I made some quick arrangements, kissed my husband, tossed a few things for my daughter and myself into a suitcase and off she and I went up Highway 395, northward through the Eastern Sierra mountains once again to my mom's house.

Springtime in the southern California high desert and Sierra mountains is lovely, if fleeting. We drove through miles of blooming wildflowers with snowy mountains as a backdrop.

I'm not exactly sure of what the flowers are but they have fantastic names...Mule's Ears...Borage...Farewell To Spring...we pulled off the road briefly to get a better look.

These cheerful little yellow daisies were everywhere.

These purple borage flowers had the classic delicate, fairy-like wildflower thing going...

Orange Globe mallow. These had the look of lavender, but with orange flowers.

Even through some old frontage road asphalt the wildflowers bloom!

While I was taking pictures, the kid came up with this, part of an old 7-Up bottle from about the late 40's or early 50's, I'd guess.

You find things like this in the desert all the time, the rains in Spring bring up new little tidbits constantly. The glass was VERY thick!

The kid has been amusing herself on the long drive by repeatedly spotting a few of the same cars--on long drives like this you tend to keep leapfrogging the same people, and they you because of the stops you both make. One couple is pretty cooperative about waving back at N., who decides they are just the greatest and she MUST wave at them at least ten times during the day. Farther on, we made our traditional stop at Brady's Mini Mart just north of Pearsonville, where these little ceramic piggy banks stare right into your soul with black, sharklike eyes.

'Give us your pennies.....'

After that, we started to climb in elevation and headed above the snow line. Icy road and avalance warning signs abound.

By now the kid's eyeballs were about to pop out of her head, because to an 11 year old, driving through snow and not actually stopping to play in it is a cardinal sin. So we stopped to stretch our legs and play in the snow. Mostly it was her throwing snowballs at ME.

I turn to take some pictures of the scenery.
'Mom!'
I'm looking through the camera, not really paying attention, taking shots of the landscape. 'Uh huh...'
'MOM!'
Note to self: When child uses that tone of voice, TURN AROUND QUICKER.

Because she'd escalated the whole snowball fight thing.

I dust the snow out of the camera and off the front of my shirt. By now the child has switched to building a snowman, and is practicing her Karate kicks on a stubborn snowbank, trying to harvest snowman makin's.

She eventually contructs this rather glum fellow, who we leave for others to enjoy.