Simplicity Itself

I decided to go after the final cache in that new neighborhood, the one in the park that I mentioned before. It was uncharacteristically warm for the time of year for anywhere substantially north of the thirtieth parallel. But for Texas in the age of climate change, it was a nice day with just a touch of chill in the breeze. Joggers and families flitted about. A couple was lying on a blanket, looking up at the clouds in the sky, enjoying being young and in love or some kind of crap like that. But I was apart from all that. I glided through the manicured lawn, past the spraying fountain, to a walking path and toward a great tree. The path rose and banked inward, encircling the great lawn as if it were a racetrack. Beyond the path, the hillside dropped off so that one could not be seen from the path above. Someone could look down from the path and see, but if I have learned anything, it is that people rarely look up or down. Obscured by the elevated path and the tree branches, I wondered for a quarter of a second where the cache might be. Until I saw a stump sitting between the tree and the wall. In the stump, there was a hollow. In the hollow were shredded pieces of bark. Under the bark was a can wrapped in black tape. The final cache of the neighborhood.Inveni, inscripsi, reposui. And that was it. No complications, no questionable placement, no machine gun nests or concertina wire. This time, the new guys got it right. It was simple and to the point and involved no worry about onlookers or complaints about the nature of it. With that, I strode off to get tacos for dinner.

That’s all. Not every cache is epic. Not every cache has to be.