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On Doing Our Part to Teach Seasons to the Little Adventurer

'Twere a busy day.

First, our kitchen sink invented a guyser.

Well, truth be told, that were last night.
The plumber could not be here until this morning.
Nonethemore, we had already planned to take Jao
to the top of Mt. Lemmon, against which
Tucson is snuggled, just to remind him
what life is like 6,000 feet higher up,
when the valley floor is throbbing
at 100 plus temperatures.

So that is what we did.

Temperatures like this--more common now that the climate, generally, is demonstrating that global warming is quite probably caused, not only by CO2 emissions, but more likely by political hot air denying it.

There is a little community of people living very near the top of Mt. Lemmon who only partially escaped the inevitable forest fires that attend hot, dry conditions, just a few years ago.  Even today, early in summer, we could see a great pillar of smoke to our east, where logic was working, again.

Once before, before Jao, Mari and I and Michael and Daniel, had driven up to Mt. Lemmon in summer time, to ride the ski lifts a thousand feet higher than where we parked, just to enjoy what mountain-summer had to offer during Sonoran summer heat.

We took the chair lifts up over the green grass where snow was not.  It was short-sleeve, cotton shirt wonderful!

We had to go one-by-two, so Jao slyly suggested that he would sit with Mari, who had promised not to toss him overboard, even if he said or did something honest.

I was three cars back, and then forward, going and coming.
Mari feels differently about this than I, but I think there is nothing more pleasant about a ski life than riding one when there is no snow.

We were dropped off, or tumbled out, of the chair lifts at 9,125 feet, and told not to return later than 4:00 o'clock, because it was a tedious walk down, and the gate to the parking lot would be locked until sometime the next day.












We made sure to make sure.

I had nothing more securely in mind than to return to the Iron Door Restaurant and Humming Bird Feeder for a beer and a bit to eat.

It is all a part of our lifelong educational instinct at work:  you know, to teach the kid what real winter ought to be like, without snow.

We kept pointing down to what we could see of the city of Tucson, and saying things like, "Look, Jao!  That is where we came from on that long, tedious drive across town, and up the mountain side.", and Jao wondered if they sold Dr. Pepper down at the bottom of the ski lift.

They did.















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