We went to Red Rock Canyon the other day to take Baby Blaze back to his parents.
(He's two, but doesn't mind being called baby, in fact he gets a little miffed if you try to call him a big boy. It seems he's figured out that those two words are usually pronounced in verbal proximity to a job we want him to do).
Anyway, Red Rock Canyon is only a couple of miles off the interstate highway but, for not being out in the wilds of creation, sure looks it. The ground is level and unprepossessing until suddenly the road drops down, turns a corner, and you are traveling into a sweet little canyon with high rock walls which are perfect for clambering. There are handholds and footholds and snug little trails worn by hundreds of adventurous feet. Then there are a few sheer cliffs--stuff for rappelling.
Elijah started climbing up the wall and I nervously snapped a couple of pictures, not realizing that I had caught Blaze as he contemplated joining his Dad on the wall. Of course, when I saw the pictures, I posted them on face-book to get reactions from all my friends and relatives who rely on social media for daily news.
My brother in law....the artist/photographer in North Carolina, altered the last one and put a little moment of fear into my grandmother heart.