We decided that yesterday would be a lovely day for a picnic.
Normally, for a picnic, we'd go to a park that boasted actual picnic tables. Or, if we were in the mood for a picnic in the mountains, we'd head to Arteaga, where there are authorized places to pull off the road and eat. There are even picnic tables for rent, thanks to those enterprising Arteagans.
But no, Mario had to go to his office for what he swore would only be twenty minutes (it turned into an hour . . . no surprise there). Unfortunately, Mario's office is in the opposite direction of Arteaga. So we just pulled off of Highway 54 and sat down under some pines right off the highway and ate our turkey sandwiches.
We were bemused to find out that eating lunch 20 feet from the highway was a good deal quieter than eating lunch in our kitchen. (Reason #2 why we will be looking for a new house sooner rather than later.)
I had the urge for a little hike, but after going another 20 feet further from the highway, Clara decided that she had had enough hiking. The highlight of her afternoon was counting the trucks driving by. Oh, two-year-olds.
The two-month-old made it clear that he just wanted to sleep in his car seat.
Picnics in the mountains just aren't what they used to be.
However, I did learn an interesting fact: the pine trees that are off the side of the highway are indeed pine nut trees. I found a pine cone that had some suspicious looking seeds in it. I asked city-boy Mario if they were pine nuts, and he said no. At the end of our picnic, a pick up truck parked behind us, and after a few minutes, let us know that it wasn't a good pine nut-scavenging-day. (Reason #23 why I should stop taking Mario's word as the gospel truth.) Then, as we were driving back to town, we noticed a number of other trucks and cars, apparently also out scavenging pine nuts. Good to know. Next year, when my basil bush won't be shriveled up, I'll head out there and join them. (Or maybe I'll just buy a bag downtown . . .)