Russian John Redux
I made it up there again last week and for a short while shared the small pool with only the dragonflies. There were two tiny azure-blue ones buzzing around a bit, and I wondered if they were the offspring of the ones I had seen so romantically-clinched together earlier this season.
Suddenly, a small family (of people) showed up, and I invited them to join in with the dragonflies and myself. And after the young gleeful children started splashing around in an exhilarating manner, the brilliantly-blue dragonflies scurried off into the sky, or somewhere around the corner.
We also witnessed two reddish-orange dragonflies buzzing around there, which were larger and not as easily frightened off by the frenzy. One of the boys called them horseflies, and when his father tried to correct him, I thought that there was actually an element of truth to what the child had spoken, as they did resemble horseflies.
There is no sign for where the spring is, but once you find it you can remember it forever. One of the parents pointed out that the mile-marker which corresponds to where his hot spring book directed him was missing, but I do believe it’s near 147 and encourage folks to use dead-reckoning by opening the car window to sniff it out from there.
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