Category Archives: Colorado

Becoming Coloradan

Imbolc                                                             Valentine Moon

No snow. 10% humidity. A spate of small wildfires. Result: stage 1 fire restrictions put in place by Jeffco. In February. Winter has gone on holiday and the outlook for summer is fiery if we don’t get more moisture in March and April. Like death, oddly, I find the whole wildfire possibility invigorating. It motivates me to work on our lodgepole pine and aspen and it brings those of us who live in the mountains closer together. A common foe.

fire-danger-high

Lodgepole pine. From our bedroom window I look out and up to a jagged line of tree tops. On clear nights stars often align with the tops of the pines, giving them a decorated for Christmas look. Sometimes stars also align with branches further down, emphasizing the effect.

Which reminds me. Monday or Tuesday night of this week I looked up at the pines, as I often do before falling asleep. They were lit up with what looked like lightning bugs. What? The phenomena went on for quite a while, small specks of light flashing off and on. Obviously in February and up here on Shadow Mountain, no lightning bugs. A complete mystery.

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While waiting on the Rav4 to finish its spa day at Stevinson Toyota I spent some time considering whether I had become a Coloradan yet. First thing. I left my prostate and significant portions of my left knee in Colorado. No flowers in my hair, but I do feel I’ve contributed in a meaningful, whole body sort of way. Then, living in the mountains. Everyday. Learning the rhythms of mountain seasons, the wildlife, the vast number of hikes and sights and sites to see. And we’re adjusted to life at 8,800 feet. A very Colorado and mountain thing.

Of course, there are Jon and Ruth and Gabe, family links to schools, synagogues, sports, life as a child in the Centennial State. Our dogs, too, as Dr. Palmini said, are mountain dogs now. Due to the spate of mountain lion attacks on dogs in the last month or so, I have a concern for their safety that is very Coloradan. In fact I bought a powerful LED flashlight and have my walking stick ready to do battle with a mountain lion if necessary.

Kings Peak near us 4 pm 12 29
Kings Peak near us 4 pm 12 29

Congregation Beth Evergreen, in addition to a religious community, also facilitates ties with people who live up here like the lawyer, Rich Levine, we saw last week. Many others, too. Kate has integrated quickly thanks to the two sewing groups she belongs to: Bailey Patchworkers and the Needlepointers. Her integration helps mine.

The town of Evergreen has many great restaurants, as does Morrison. We go to jazz and theater in Denver.

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That’s the coming to Colorado part of the story. The other is my relationship to Minnesota. Of course there are the Wooly friends, especially Tom, Mark and Bill and the docent friends, many of whom I connect with through Facebook, but also through visits, e-mails, the occasional phone call. Those connections are still strong, even though attenuated by distance.

Minnesota will always occupy a large, 40-year space in my heart. That’s a long time, enough to become home. So many memories, good ones and bad ones. But, it is just that now, a 40-year space in my heart. I do not want to return. Life is here, now, and that, more than anything else, tells me that, yes, I have become and am a Coloradan.

 

Velveteen Rabbit in Reverse

Imbolc                                                                    Valentine Moon

Kate and I spent yesterday packing up the last of Jon’s dishes and books at his old house on Pontiac Street near Stapleton. We worked together as a good team, except for that last minute dispute about art. The process brought back memories of getting ready to make our move out here, memories that are still fresh enough to make moving again anytime soon very unlikely.

velveteen rabbit

There’s something sad about finishing up packing in a now empty house. The physical structure goes through a Velveteen Rabbit moment in reverse. Once real, once a  home, now it returns to just a house. Its walls soon to have someone else’s art. Its floors to have someone else’s furniture. Its kitchen to have new cooks. The backyard will have different plants.

Over the weekend Jon and some friends will move furniture, the stuff in the shed, the boxes Kate and I packed to a storage unit. On Monday the deal closes and the keys will go to the new owner, a mechanical engineer. That will finish up the house as a sticking point in the marital dissolution. I hope.

We’ve been at this with Jon since last May. Jon and I went out for supper to a Mexican place in Aurora near his school. He said, “Jen and I are getting divorced.” Oh. My. First I’d heard of or suspected it. Since then Jon’s had a very rough experience. Nine months later it’s still tough for him. With the possibility of a new home purchase now that the Pontiac house has sold I hope he’ll find his attention diverted to making a place anew for him and Ruth and Gabe.

Valparaiso, Chile 2011
Valparaiso, Chile 2011

He spends a lot of time drawing new houses on graph paper utilizing shipping containers for various rooms, new structures. He’s got a lot of skills and will be able to take an older house and transform it into something beautiful. That’s one of the sad parts about pulling away from Pontiac. He redid the upstairs himself, including two bathrooms, one in which he installed a walk-in, tiled shower. He also built beds for Ruth and Gabe. He created several closets in a house that previously had little storage. He finished the kitchen, built a dining room table and counters out of old bowling alley wood and put in a productive garden.

Soon, sooner I hope, he’ll be able to do that work on a house of his own, touching here and there and making it real. Making it a home.

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).

IMAG0927_BURST002
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.

20151114_111107
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.