Category Archives: Colorado

Dazzled

Imbolc                                                                             Valentine Moon

Purnell Steen and Le Jazz Machine. Last night at Dazzle Jazz on Lincoln in Denver.

Purnell organized a playlist for the evening. It was all African-American composers in honor of Black History Month. Billy Strayhorn, Duke Ellington, Art Blakey, Eubie Blake and some I didn’t catch. Here’s one by Art Blakey, Soft Wind.

Dazzle Jazz is a supper club with seating for maybe 100, all at tables. It opens at 6:00 pm for dining, with the first evening show at 7:00 pm. The stage is against the southern wall.

The menu has a lot of variety, from mac and cheese to braised greens to New York strip. The drink menu last night featured a “Bowling Green Massacre.” You can tell why we like this place.

Kate and I met listening to chamber music at the St. Paul Chamber Orchestra. I realized last night that in the literal sense jazz is chamber music, too. It’s no surprise then that Kate and I have shifted our musical evenings to Denver’s jazz scene. And we get food.

Imbolc, 2017

Imbolc                                                                                 Valentine Moon

 

Feb

Imbolc, or in-the-belly, celebrates the time in Ireland when the ewes would freshen. Their pregnancies meant milk would be available after the long fallow season that had begun at Samain, Summer’s End.

Pregnant ewe
Pregnant ewe

Imbolc lies halfway between the Winter Solstice and the Spring Equinox, what the Celt’s called a cross-quarter holiday since it falls between two quarters defined by the solar year. That milk is also a promise, like the gradual lengthening of days after the longest night of the year in late December, that spring and the growing season will come.

It’s easy for us in our refrigerated, grocery stored world to gloss over these signals of the natural world. It seems like we don’t require them anymore. After all we can buy milk, cow’s milk, at any time of the day or night, 365 days a year. And the growing season particular to our latitude and longitude also seems irrelevant since it’s always the growing season somewhere on earth. The occasional gaps that even modern transportation can’t resolve can often be filled by greenhouse or hydroponically grown produce. We’re good, right?

I’m afraid not. Celebrating Imbolc or any of the Great Wheel holidays will not resolve our alienation from the sources of our sustenance, the sun and mother earth, but this ancient tradition exists to call us back home. The Great Wheel is a reminder that the cycle of life continues, even when the fields and animals are barren. The power of the sun, working in harmony with the soil, with plants, with animals that eat the plants does not disappear. It can be trusted.

awakening

It is though, that alienation, evident in so many ways, that drives climate change, that creates produce modified for harvest and storage, not human well-being, that underwrites the paving over of cropland and wetlands. We imagine that somehow the droughts in California will stop there. We hope they’ll be confined to somewhere else, somewhere where we’re not. Global agriculture means we’ll be affected wherever the damage occurs.

Colorado River Basin

Right here in Colorado we have a key example of the interdependence for which the Great Wheel stands. Our snowpack, high in the Rockies where the Colorado River rises for its journey south toward its ancient destination in the Gulf of California, determines the amount of water available to nine states. Including California. Winter snowfall, melted by the increasing warmth of spring and summer, nourishes millions of people, cities like Las Vegas, Phoenix and Los Angeles.

common ground

In the age of Trump and rising nationalist, right wing populism, the need for the Great Wheel has never been more profound. It softens our in the moment, human conflicts by lifting up the long term, the cycles of life in which all humans, all life participate. The Great Wheel reminds us that there is no other when it comes to living on this planet. We’re all here and bound to one another, connected. My hope is that someday, perhaps someday soon, we’ll all realize that and adjust our politics accordingly.

 

Glad We Live Here

Winter                                                            Valentine Moon

The dogs after delivery by Tom Crane
The dogs after delivery by Tom Crane and Kate, before the boxes

The move, two years plus later. On October 31st, Summer’s End of 2014, we closed on 9358 Black Mountain Drive. Later that same year, on December 20th, the Winter Solstice, we moved in. At the time we still owned our home in Andover, Minnesota. When the boxes piled up in all spaces of our new house, we looked at them, breathed in and out heavily and took a nap. We were to breathe in and out heavily for three months or so as our bodies adjusted to life at 8,800 feet.

The winter weather on Shadow Mountain that preceded and followed our move was snowy and cold. Even for two Minnesotans. We had to learn mountain driving on snowy, slick roads though the Jefferson County snowplows did do an excellent job of clearing and sanding our main road, Black Mountain Drive (Hwy. 78).

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Progress, January 2015

Even so, living in the mountains was what we wanted and it was everything we hoped and more. Every drive took us past rocky, conifer covered mountain sides. We were on and among the Rocky Mountains.

Of course, yes, we moved out here to be closer to the grandkids and to Jon and Jen, family, 900 miles closer. Jen had expected us to move closer to them and was upset we decided to live in the mountains. We never did get her to understand that our move had two related, but distinct purposes: the first was to live in a place that we loved; the second to be with people we loved. Now that the divorce is over and the apres divorce time underway we are certainly glad we chose our home based on our dreams rather than hers.

Jon and Ruth clear our drive before the moving van comes
Jon and Ruth clear our drive before the moving van comes

Kate rapidly found a quilting group, the Bailey Patchworkers, and began meeting with them monthly. Out of that group came an invitation to a smaller group of needle workers who also meet monthly. I didn’t find that kind of local connection until a few months ago when we both started attending Congregation Beth Evergreen. Since then, I’ve also found Organizing for Action-Conifer. We’re both gradually becoming part of our community here in the mountains; actually, communities, because we have as much affiliation with Evergreen, perhaps more, than we do with Conifer.

It’s been a medically eventful two years for me with prostate cancer in 2015 and the total knee in 2016. Kate’s rheumatoid arthritis led to hand/wrist surgery over a year ago and she continues to have degenerative disc disease related pain. Combined with the divorce, which began in earnest in May of 2016 and continues as Jon still lives with us, it means we’ve been very inwardly and family focused the whole time so far. We both hope this year gives us a break on the medical front and that Jon finds a new home for himself, Ruth and Gabe.

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fire mitigation, 2015. Just before the solar panels were installed.

Every once in awhile, we say to each other: I’m glad we moved here. And we are. The mountains teach us, every day, what it means to be mountains and what it means to live among them from snowy weather to elk and mule deer to rushing spring streams to less available oxygen. We’re very glad we’ve been here to support Jon and the grandkids. Those two reasons for the move have both manifested themselves in positive ways.

We’ve begun our third year on Shadow Mountain. Can’t wait to see what happens next.

Hanukkah, 2016
Hanukkah, 2016

What Time Is It?

Winter                                                                  New (Valentine) Moon

clock

Something’s happening here. I attended a meeting last night of Organizing for Action-Conifer. This group has gone from 20 to 180 in four weeks and that in the rural mountains of southwestern Jefferson and eastern Park County. Resist was a big word for the night. Many of the women had on their pussy hats from either the Washington March, five women, or the Denver March, most of the rest with a few men.

We broke up to form issue working groups: ACA repeal, women’s health, immigration, climate change, marginalized groups, Jefferson County issues, Park County issues and redistricting/midterm elections. Though climate change is very important to me, I sat with the Jefferson County folks. Why? Because I believe the Republicans, especially the Tea Party and the Koch brothers, stole several steps on progressives by focusing on local and state elections. This move, very successful, allowed them to control state legislatures and often governorships, which in turn gave them power over redistricting.

The whole moment gave me a boost although my days of late night political strategy sessions are past. By 8:30 p.m. I’d begun to yawn, feel heavy since I’m usually in bed by that time. (and up at 4:30 a.m. to milk the cows. well, no. to feed the dogs) These kind of meeting times are necessary though since most folks work during the day.

So I’ve found some allies who live nearby. We’re already making phone calls, writing letters, visiting legislators at the state and federal levels, marching, planning for a sustainable group and getting focused on issues. I’m still waiting to see what Beth Evergreen creates. Something, I hope; but if not, OFA-Conifer is already at work.

 

Snow Eaters

Winter                                               Cold Moon

Duluth spent about 63 hours below zero from Tuesday night to Friday afternoon, Embarrass hit 37 below zero Friday morning and wind chills across the Northland nosed 40 below zero over the past week.

And the arctic blast isn’t over yet. A wind chill advisory remains in effect until noon Saturday for all of the Northland, with wind chill values into the 30s below zero.Duluth News Tribune, January 6, 2017

Just an example of why Minnesota came in number 1 on a recent list of worst winters. It’s why the winters here in Colorado, which came in 47th on the same list (seems off to me, but, hey), can seem almost a different season than the one 40 years in Minnesota acclimated me to.

This week has featured both snow and snow-eaters. The snow has not been much, less than an inch, plus flurries today, though last week’s snow freshened up and plumped up our snow cover. Then, we get the chinooks, the snow-eaters.

These ferocious winds can reach 90 mph and exceeded that outside Colorado Springs with 113 mph blasts whipping a fire through a suburban neighborhood. Chinooks are creatures of the mountains. This illustration explains them very well.

chinook

In the instance of Shadow Mountain we are on the eastern, lee side, of the continental divide, the right side in this illustration. When the circumstances are right, the winds begin to fall down the lee side, gathering speed and warmth as they plummet toward the plains (adiabatic heating), also losing moisture as their temperature rises. Thus, the snow-eater.

We’ve had two long instances of chinooks this week, one tentatively underway right now. The lodgepoles dip and bend. Near their tops the trees look like they’re wrestling each other. Anything not nailed down blows away. The piles of snow melt. Note that this is not the solar snow shovel, but a separate phenomenon. Just another way in which Colorado winters differ from the sort experienced in Duluth over the last few days.

Continuing the Theme of the Post Below

Winter                                                                   Cold Moon

Well. -7 in the middle of the night here and in the early a.m. As we used to say in Minnesota, “It’s going to get chilly pretty soon.” Snowfall amounts lower than anticipated. This is the first time in the last two winters I can recall a storm underperforming here on Shadow Mountain. It does make it easier to get to p.t. at 7:30 a.m.

Coloradans are conditioned in odd ways, both related to snow and to cold. Our Mussar class canceled last night. If Minnesota canceled things under similar circumstances, not a lot would happen over the winter. The cold really gets to them, too. Single digits are down-coat or stay in the house and wait it out weather. -7! Burrow. Turn up the boiler. Find that damned electric blanket. The not insignificant exception to both are, of course, the many skiers who live here, including Jon who has his ski boots out by the door this morning. Snow day!

The reason for these attitudes is a prevailing belief, usually correct, that if it snows today, it will melt tomorrow. Or, if not then, the next day, thanks to the solar snow shovel. The cold is a bit more complicated. Here in the mountains if you’re in the sun, even on a cold day, you heat up pretty fast. If you move into the shade? Temps plummet. So, if the overall temperature is what you might find in the shade on a cold day, well, things have gotten pretty bad.

Don’t know whether we’ll get plowed or not. Here, before you go to the trouble of blowing or plowing a driveway, you look at the weather forecast. If, as in the next few days, temps will hit high forties, low fifties on sunny days, then clearing the snow is not a requirement. It does help, of course, and if my knee were done healing, I’d probably get out and clear this one.

Brother Mark’s road journey continues, speaking of temperatures. He left Bangkok a couple of days ago after his visa expired. He’s now in Phnom Penh, Cambodia where it’s 82 with 73% humidity.

Negative. Good.

Winter                                                    Cold Moon

Kate’s endoscopy is over with gratifyingly negative results. The GI doc was a right jolly old elf with white hair and a belly that shook like a bowl full of jelly. Swedish Hospital, where the procedure was done, is an old hospital, built in multiple oddly connected buildings of different ages. Some are brick, some the same tired modernist shtick that infests elementary schools. Overall the mood is mildly depressing.

Swedish is in Lakewood, the first ‘burb in the Denver metro after we leave the mountains headed east on Hwy. 285. Its massive ongoing construction, buildings separated from each other and a general confusion about what goes where, makes their offering valet parking a very nice gesture.

This one had Kate worried. Not me, but it wasn’t my alimentary canal being scoped either.

After Kate woke up, she got dressed and asked that I drive further east on Hampden (also 285) to the New York Deli. There we picked up a half gallon of CNS, one huge matzo ball and a pastrami sandwich. We turned back west on Hwy 285 and made our way out of the Mile High City and into the foothills, then the Front Range.

Each time we leave the Denver metro and head home into the mountains, one of us says, “I love living in the mountains.” Kate said it today. As we climbed into Conifer, flakes of snow began spitting around us, not much, but a reminder of the bigger winter storm scheduled to hit us tomorrow and Thursday.

As the storm comes, we have plenty of CNS and leftover pastrami sandwich to see us through. New York Deli has come to the mountains.

 

 

Election Over

Fall                                                                                Hunter Moon

mail-inThe election is over. At least for Kate and me. We got our ballots in the mail on Tuesday. Yes, in the mail. We opened them and yesterday sat down together to vote. At our beetle kill pine kitchen table. The ballot spread out before us, front and back. The front had Hillary Clinton, Michael Bennet (Senate) and Jared Polis (House of Representatives) in a row, making it easy to vote for these Democrats.

There were several retain or not choices for judges. Don’t know if this happens elsewhere but here judges are appointed for two years then have to stand for a retention election. If retained, they serve eight more years. A state house race, county commissioner, surveyor, those sorts of offices sent us to the computer, checking on candidates and positions. We definitely voted against the Republican candidate for the state house who wanted to separate “School and State.”

colorado-care-actOn the back of the ballot were several matters up for public decision, most amending the constitution, a couple with only statutory weight. These are placed on the ballot if they get enough signatures in a pre-election petition process. This is referendum politics and I don’t like it. It sounds like direct democracy, but in fact it is too often a place where large organizations run stealth campaigns, hammering the process with lots of money.

On the other hand the matters that make it onto the ballot are often important, sometimes conservative, sometimes progressive. TABOR, a tax revenue limiting referendum passed in Colorado in 1992 is “…is the most restrictive limitation in the country…” (Bell Policy) Conservative. But in 2012 another referendum allowed for the legalization of marijuana for recreational use, expanding the 2000 referendum which allowed medical marijuana.

This year ColoradoCare is on the ballot, a proposal which, if passed, would establish a single-payer health system in the state, so is medical aid in dying, a $1.75 increase in the cigarette tax, and an obscure rule about taxing benefits of using Federal lands.

politifact2fphotos2fboulder_votersIn effect the polling place became our kitchen table. It was better than a voting booth because we could discuss our votes, look up information on candidates or ballot issues. Today we’ll drop our ballots off at a ballot collection box at the Evergreen library.

Colorado is an odd mix of libertarian, nutjob conservatives, centrists like Governor Hickenlooper and Richard Lamb, and progressives. It shows in the referendums on the ballot, the ones already passed and the mail-in ballot. The trend, thanks to in-migration of millennials and others from blue states like Minnesota, seems to favor the progressive as does the potential for a large turn out the vote campaign among the state’s significant Latino population.

It’s an edgy place, this strange state where the Great Plains end, the Rocky Mountains rise. Though Cozad, Nebraska marks the 100th parallel and the line where average rainfall plummets below 20 inches year, the start of the arid west, it is the Rockies which mark the true border between the agriculturally dominated Midwest and Great Plains and the West.

We are both of the plains and the mountains, a place where Eastern ends and Western begins. The politics here represents that border transition, an uneasy joining of the two. The future, as seen from Shadow Mountain, should be interesting.

Grandkid Weekend

Lugnasa                                                                            Harvest Moon

Jon and the grandkids went camping at Upper Maxwell Falls, less than 2 miles from here in the Arapaho National Forest. They watched a fawn come up underneath a doe and whack her underside a couple of times, then drink. Having this kind of opportunity so close to our home makes grandkid life richer. Ours, too. Ruth got cold; Gabe got hot. They ate clam chowder with sourdough bread and drank hot chocolate. Breakfast was back here.

Jon leaving the Double Eagle
Jon leaving the Double Eagle

The trip to the Argo Gold Mine was a promise to Ruth, made after I took Gabe there last year. It was much better this time since new owners had a guide that went with us on the whole tour, including the Double Eagle Mine. The Double Eagle was dug by hand, went back maybe two hundred feet, following a vein of quartz (gold shows up near the quartz). It was called the Double Eagle because the entire mine netted its two miners only $20, a double eagle coin. A helluva lot of work for 20 bucks, even in the late 19th century.

The tour is really of the Argo mill, the processing plant that received, through the Argo Tunnel, ore from 800 mines. The tunnel, 4.2 miles long, ran from upslope Central City to a spot just above the processing plant.

An assayer’s office determined the percentage of the big five metals in each ore cart: gold, silver, copper, lead, zinc.  The mill purchased the ore cart based on the value of the metals. Then the ore cart moved over to the receiving pits. The cart tipped over on its side, spilling the ore into these deep bins.

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Interior of the mill

From there the ore went to stamping mills for crushing of larger chunks of ore, through chemical slurries and ball mills and finally onto sorting tables. The process used vaporized mercury at one point and a cyanide leaching tank for the gold. Added to the physical dangers in the wooden mill, criss-crossed by belts to drive various machines and filled with the noise of the stamping mills that could be hear fourteen miles away, the poisons used made the mill a dangerous place to work.

This all came to an end when 5 miners, trying to retrieve gold from a vein when the mines were shut down, set off an explosion that drained older mines of water built up in their drifts. This sent a pulse of water jetting through the 12 foot wide Argo Tunnel, killing four of the miners, shooting a one ton ore cart a mile in the air and making the tunnel unfit for use.

The Argo mill shut down the next day. No way to get ore out of the mines and to the mill.