To everything there is a season, September, 1975: Osoyoos, BC

Traveling with Kootenay was relatively simple. He is still small enough to be carried, which I did most of the time. He responds well to my voice and comes when I call. Since traffic is light to non existent, I can put him down when we walk and he follows with me. He probably doesn’t have those curious dog instincts working yet and won’t give chase to intriguing sounds or smells. We arrived in Osoyoos before noon and gauging by the many people hanging out in the park, it must have been Sunday. I met some of the gang I worked with just a week ago. It was Sunday, their day off. Picking season for most crops was just about over and nearly everyone was no longer working. There seemed a bustling tourist atmosphere instead of a day of rest. People camping about were engaged in a different industry than picking.
Greg, who lived in a home made camper on the back of a heavy duty work truck crafted musical instruments. His story was he had learned his trade over the past few years apprenticed to a master in Nashville. Currently he was headed to ply his skill in Vancouver. He related that as he developed an interest in this business, he journeyed in his truck to Honduras and learned about the woods he needed to use crafting quality instruments. He worked for a season in the timber industry and collected prime examples of beautifully figured mahogany, rosewood and other examples that ended up in his pieces. His jewel was a mandolin that was pieced together with remnants of all his various species of hardwoods. It looked like a patchwork quilt but held fantastic sound. He exhibited a sizable knowledge of the tonal qualities of woods used in his instruments and he gifted me some scraps, I put to use in my own industry.
Passing time on the deck of a restaurant / bar overlooking the lake, I began carving astrological symbols from the scraps Greg left me. My goal was to complete a whole set of twelve. Soon after I finished the first one, I met Sharon whose symbol it was. She lived in a cabin in the nearby mountains and fashioned crafts. I gave her the symbol of her sign. She whipped out some twine and created a macramé necklace for it. When she finished she displayed her other skill. It took her hardly a breath to peddle it to a bar patron. We were in business. For the next two days I created the whole set which Sharon mounted on necklaces and sold. Neither of us ended up with our own symbol. This was an excellent occupation in that I could work while babysitting Kootenay. He was even welcomed on the restaurant outdoor deck.
On the second day an incident occurred that propelled me to think about heading out. I was conversing with a group of women when they invited me to join them in the ladies room to partake with some hashish smoking. “Sure,” I said. It did not seem odd until, an elderly female patron entered the room, looked me squarely in the eye, whirled around, went back to the door and examined the sign indicating the sex of that lavatory. She was right and I immediately left. Apparently she complained to management that a male disturbed her in the woman’s room. I was not caught, but realized I may be getting out of control and it seemed prudent to ply my skills elsewhere. I said goodbye to Sharon, left the bar and headed to the park. There I learned that there was no work available locally and pickers were heading south to work in the apple orchards of Washing ton. I was in a quandary; how was I to get an unlicensed puppy past the border?
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