Lions and tigers and

I've been cold all day today. When I got dressed the morning was bright, but it was an illusion and outside it was chilly and the short sleeves were a mistake. Not like Saturday. Saturday was one out of the box: brilliantly blue sky, bright warm sunshine, every edge clear and sharp, and just enough freshness when I went for my walk to give me the feel of Sequoia National Park on the equally perfect autumn day that I climbed Moro Rock. I love getting random sensations like that, that link so evocatively to a moment ages ago that I'd completely forgotten about, and bring it back in a rush.

I could smell the fallen leaves, see their rich yellows and reds, feel the soft burgundy velvet of the sequoia trunks, hear the rustle of the chipmunk in the undergrowth - and remember the sudden stomach-lurch when that noise reminded me that I was all alone in the forest, walking quietly, and that America's not like New Zealand, with only some nasty little nocturnal possums sharing the bush with me: that here, they have BEARS.

And a couple of days later, at Yosemite? This.