In an ideal world a traveler would look forward to visiting towns and perhaps even cities. But I find myself not even trying. There are a couple exceptions. The city park along the Salmon River is having the same pleasing effect on me that it has had on previous summers.
It doesn't hurt that it is dog-friendly. My little 20-pounder got away from me and took off after a Doberman pinscher. Nothing bad happened, but she couldn't try that trick too many times in a row before something did.
My goodness, a camper like me can almost forget how to talk with other people. But here, along the river park, I find some friendly chit-chat with the locals. One person was leading a cat on a leash -- I said that I was looking for the dog park, and she must be looking for the cat park.
I love the rivers of Idaho. It takes a long time before you can visualize their layout.
Perhaps if I hang around the park today, I will find an energetic labrador retriever who plays in the river.
Later in the day I took a nap. My brain sagged from 14.3 Volts DC to 11.9, while Maria Callas floated through the ballroom scene at the beginning of Verdi's "La Traviata," and my trailer sat in cool shade made by real trees, and a river rushed by on both sides. Thinking about coolness, water, and greenery is better than nap-floating on a cloud in the sky.
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