Category Archives: Colorado

The Move. Continuing.

Winter                                                  Settling Moon

The lodgepole pines sway in an early morning gust. They have whitened branches near their crowns, remnants of last night’s snow. Today will be clear and colder, Conifer being 16 while Andover registers 37.  A bit backward from expectations, but individual days will vary.

Once all of our stuff finally has a place in our home we can begin the process of shuffling and repositioning. That will take into the summer I imagine, gradually lessening as winter winds down and we make the turn toward our first mountain spring, but continuing as we refine our use of the spaces here.

It’s easier to breathe here, unless exerting yourself, the thinner, cleaner air a mild revelation, the lack of humidity a part of it, too.

We still have to get a washer/dryer, but have to decided to wait until post-Christmas sales.

The longest move, following the longest night, should come to an end today. May it be so.

Fraught

Winter                                                                        Settling Moon

The three movers, David and Anthony, two Apache’s and their nephew, an Apache/Navajo teenager, went on strike last night as dark fell, the tow truck had not come and they had already been working since 8 a.m.

It was a fraught situation. Richard has a plane to catch today, returning to Florida for Christmas with his wife and daughter, two dogs. He needs (in trucker driver needs) unload his truck and he wanted it done last night. Matters, however, conspired against him.

Snow, recalcitrant crew, a truck in a ditch with county snowplows making regular sweeps on Black Mountain Drive, commuters coming home from work and the holiday always lying in the background. He called for the tow at 3:30 p.m. 5:30 pm came and went. Later, Richard learned, the first tow truck had broken its transmission en route.

At 7:05 pm last night, the tow truck finally came. But locals here had seen the situation, talked with Richard, got their pick-ups ready and had him out about 20 minutes before the tow arrived.

All the while I’m relearning the serenity of accepting the things I cannot change.

We start again this morning at 8 am with two crews of two plus Richard. Our belongings will be in the house and up in the loft today. One day more or less is insignificant.

While looking through our front door at the 26 foot U-haul truck stuck in the ditch, its hazard lights lit up the slow fall of snow flakes. “Winter wonderland,” said Richard, the Floridian, with a hint of sarcasm. But, you know, it was. I leaned over to Kate and said, “Won’t this make a great story to tell our grandchildren?”

 

Stuck

Winter                                                                 Settling Moon

The opportunity for learning grows as the day goes on. The second load in the U-Haul encountered a ditch in front of our house. Stuck. Snow has begun to fall, gentle snow-globe snow. That means the county snowplows, very diligent have started up again. The sheriff has come.

Little is in the house as yet; the dogs have been crated since 11:30 or so. Richard, the driver, has a plane to catch for West Palm Beach tomorrow, holiday with his family. He intends to finish tonight and has called for extra workers.

Serenity to accept the things you cannot change. Repeat. And, repeat.

Not much we can do but watch this min-drama unfold. The movers do not work much longer, I can tell, and who could blame them? The thing I could do, I did. I suggested they come back tomorrow, but Richard has his plane.

As I said, lots of opportunity for growth. Wisdom to know the difference. Amen.

Acceptance

Winter                                               Settling Moon

Belongings had to be shuttled in by U-Haul truck. Van wouldn’t fit in the driveway. An extra, healthy charge.

New place, new persona. Anger, not helpful. I looked up the serenity prayer, took off the first word and went through this wise sentence many times. “Grant me the serenity to accept the things I cannot change: the courage to change the things I can and the wisdom to know the difference.”

So. Could I adjust the size of the van or the length and width of our driveway? No. Pay the cost, then. Greet the driver and the movers as allies in our move. Which they are.

The dogs, whose crates would be exposed to the wind through open garage doors, I could help. I cut up emptied boxes and taped them around their crates as a wind barrier. Unexpected result? Quiet, peaceful dogs. Something I could change.

Kate and I had a nice lunch while the movers are packing the remainder of the load into the U-Haul truck, got some rest and can still laugh. The Colorado me.

 

Home

Winter                                                   New (Settling) Moon

The cargo van has been unloaded and returned, a day early, to the Denver airport. A bit of confusion there, as there was when we picked it up. Cargo vans do not normally leave the local Enterprise fleet. This one did. They knew it, too. $300 fee to cover re-registration and licensing, plus a taste for corporate.

Kate and I had supper at Tres Los Garcias in Aspen Park. Aspen Park is the largest of three retail centers along 285 located in Conifer. As you might expect in a state with a longstanding Latino community, the food is pretty good.

As we drove up Shadow Mountain Drive tonight, there was snow coming down. I hope it’s a small snow since the van comes tomorrow. After that, let it snow!

Still a measure of unreality here, the I feel like I’m on vacation feeling. Though not in the house. The dogs have all found spots on the living room’s radiantly heated tile. They’re going to have the run of this level, the one with the kitchen and Kate’s sewing room. (at until they prove our trust is not warranted.) We’ve found our own spot. Home.

Containment Challenges: The Colorado Chapter

Winter                                                        New (Settling In) Moon

With Kate letting her body adjust to altitude a mile high it’s just the four dogs and me. I woke up this morning to Kep, the Akita, and Gertie, the German Shorthair, playing outside my closed door. Hmmm. I shut them in Kate’s sewing-area to-be along with the big girls, Vega and Rigel.

Dogs test their containment and if it has flaws, they will find them. In this case the latch is semi-circle of metal that snugs into like shape depression. It allows the door to close, but open again with slight pressure from the kitchen side or a pull from the sewing area. Apparently repeated pushing against the door can pop it loose, too. So, some modification will be called for. Too early for me to figure it out.

After I pick up Kate at 9 this morning, I’m going to finish the shoveling and unload the cargo van. At this altitude and with my current level of acclimation it might take all day.

Managing the dogs makes this place feel homelike very quickly. These familiar, mundane chores are part of where we live. Doing them here offers clear feedback about where home is now.

Mike the Fence guy comes over for his final inspection and payment at 11:00. More integrating.

 

A Little Hard to Grasp

Samain                                                        Moving Moon

Jon came and cleared out a path for the movers. Ruth worked at it, too, with a plastic avalanche shovel. Even Jon, living in Denver, got winded shoveling snow up here, another 3,600 feet higher. Throughout this whole process, people have been kind and sweet. Tom’s driving. Jon’s shoveling. The docents partying. Even Eric, the kennel master at Armstrong Kennels told us we were good dog people and he was sorry to see us go. That’s real praise.

The only move part left of the move is the van coming on Monday. After that we’ll be settling. Oh, there are plenty of sequelae like selling that other house we own, paying the movers, doing some reconfiguring in the kitchen, getting acclimatized, but the move itself will be over on Monday once our stuff returns to us. That’s a big deal in my mind and I will retire the Move category from the posts.

The enormity of this change is still a little hard to grasp. We’re no longer Minnesotans, but Coloradans. We’re no longer flatlanders but mountain dwellers. We’re no longer Midwesterners. Now we are of the West, that arid, open, empty space. These changes will change us and I look forward to that. The possibility of becoming new in the West has long been part of the American psyche, now I’ll test it for myself.

The Pack Is Back

Samain                                                     Moving Moon

The pack has come together. Kate and Gertie arrived around three. There was a good deal of mutual sniffing and wagging of tails. Kate the Intrepid, as Jane West calls her, dismounted from the cargo van with a victorious grimace. She had driven it all the way, by herself. See.

Jon and crew are coming. He’ll help me clear the driveway for the moving van. This place will soften up, come alive when the furniture is here, the art, the lamps, the books, the pots and pans, the dishes and serving pieces. All in the van. Coming on Monday. A great Hanukkah/Christmas holiday special treat.

Aspen Perks

Samain                                                            Moving Moon

Tom and I had breakfast at Aspen Perks this morning. All the waiters and waitresses had on elf hats in this mountain cafe just off Highway 285. He had pastry with egg, ham, basil and pesto. I had the Bronco omlette, sausage, bacon and cheese. Back on the low carb way after 24 hours off. As Martin Luther said, “When you sin, sin boldly.”

Tom’s effort, driving out here the entire way while the dogs slumbered, was unremarkable. And in that the best possible result. We got here with no doggie wounds, no almost runaways, not even any agitation. Thanks, again, friend, for a valuable moment in the 27 years we’ve known each other.

I’m still sleep deprived, but not terrible. I have to unload the van, then help Jon shovel the driveway. An Ambien tonight, perhaps tomorrow night and I should be ready for the delivery.

The Dogs. Confused.

Samain                                                                      Moving Moon

When the dogs got here last night, they jumped out, ran around in the backyard for a moment, then promptly turned around, ran back in the garage and jumped back in the Rav4. Like a vintage Keystone cops moment, it took more than one try to get them inside the house. Two would come in and a third run back to the garage, then one would come in and two would rush back to the garage. When I opened the Rav4’s front door to retrieve some belongings, all three dogs quickly pushed passed me into the driver’s and passenger’s seat’s to stage a sit-down, lie-down strike.

Finally after I got a water bowl down for them and all their bedding inside the house, I closed the door and they went to sleep.

This morning, after I fed them, I let them outside and they went right over to the garage door, wanting back in the Rav4.

In their whole life they’ve never gone further than from our house to the kennel and back, so this is a great puzzle to them. But as I write this all three lie down on the floor around me. Rigel is on my right, Vega on the left and Kep in front.