August 27, 1964
On the north side of Sanger Peak a little newly-budded wildplant is probably wondering what has become of me. Last Wednesday I had an appointment with the unfamiliar-looking little rascal, which had just emerged from under the snow when I saw it a couple of weeks earlier, too early for identification. With the best of intentions, I headed for the rendezvous, but, as Bob Burns used to philosophize, the best laid plans…
