For better or for worse, one of Caldwell's major landmarks is a large electronic billboard managed by the estate of a Mr. Ralph Smeed. Smeed was an Idaho businessman, and a College of Idaho alumnus. After passing away in 2010, his most visible legacy remains the massive message board that continues to "amuse, tantalize, and provoke the citizens of Caldwell and SW Idaho."
This morning, this lovely group of fourteen people and one super cute dog got out of bed early enough to be on the way to Boise by 9:30. This is pretty early, for a Saturday at least.
We parked at the old Penitentiary and hiked up a dirt trail that wound its way up hills covered in delicate dry yellow grass and rough scrub brush under a heavy gray sky. It was just barely drizzling and pretty windy, but surprisingly warm today.
Navigation has never been my strong suit. Among all my friends and family, I'm the last person you ask for directions or looking at maps. I'm notorious for ending up at Point F when I'd rather be at Point B--I'm still reminded by a few close friends of mine of the time I ended up at the Boise airport in an attempt to return home after Christmas shopping. Freeways and street names just confuse me, and I'm not ashamed at all to say that without my GPS, I'd likely end up in Canada somehow.
The transition from summer to fall always seems to catch me off guard in Idaho. I seem to have no time to say goodbye to the nice, warm sunny days before I am surrounded by the October chill. The days are getting shorter and my 8 a.m. class is becoming harder and harder to wake up for.
I’m not usually a person who gets scared easily. I don’t like scary movies because I think they’re predictable, and would much rather watch something funny. Taste in movies aside, I love corn mazes, and haunted houses, and the price “free.” I’m sure that I COULD keep my cool in terrifying situations, but it’s much more fun to let myself get caught up in the mood and just get scared. Which is what I did tonight at Haunted World.
Today, I walked out of Hayman to get some lunch, and saw that the sidewalk was wet like it usually is when the sprinklers have just been on. Because of all the recent smoke, I didn’t think twice about the gray sky. But I noticed something was different about today. Unlike when the sprinklers are on, EVERYTHING was wet: Real. Life. Rain. Wet grass, and the unmistakable fragrance of the first rain in a long time.
Dear Yoties -- Boise may not have the art scene of LA, New York, or Paris. But that’s not to say we’re an artistic desert. If you want evidence that Boise’s sense of culture is alive and well, all you need to do is head downtown on the first Thursday of each month.