Category Archives: Colorado

A Milestone

Lughnasa                                                                                College Moon

Well. A milestone. Every bookshelf except the one beside my computer, stacked with books I use frequently, has been cleared, sorted and boxed. I thought I would be done in late August, early September works, too.

(New Harmony as conceived by Robert Dale Own in 1833)

As I passed these last books from shelf to box, new arrangements for them cropped up, new reading projects and writing projects, too. I have, for example, a collection of historical documents about New Harmony, Indiana. They are records of the Harmonist era 1814-1824 and documents from the Robert Owens era soon after that. There are, too, maps, Indiana Historical Society monographs, photographs and notes of my own journeys there.

(stone labyrinth in current day New Harmony)

New Harmony features in my novel, The Last Druid, and continues to interest me, both as the site of two utopian communities, one very successful, the other a successful failure and as a present day historical site with an emphasis on spirituality. Reading through those would definitely spark something.

There are, too, a collection of books, stacked up on each other, concerning the west and Colorado. These are the first tools I’ll use to get up to speed on our new home and the historical context that made it what it is now.

Now I move to file sorting, magazine culling. After that, objet d’arts.

Still

Lughnasa                                                                     College Moon

 

Out to Keys on University for our business meeting. Walking bleary eyed and under awake into a place with fresh coffee and breakfast is one of life’s small, but significant pleasures for me. We discussed the move, the idea of a second mortgage, the state of our finances, checked our calendars, scanned for birthdays.

Back home we got into shed clean out mode, discarding several years worth of detritus, often saved for a time that never came. While Kate concentrated on the first shed, I worked on repairing the damage to our fire pit area by the dogs. They smelled a rodent ofIMAG0751 some kind, I imagine. This involved hauling sand sufficient to fill up the hole, replacing torn landscape fabric and will later involve hauling sand to cover the landscape fabric, then spreading mulch over it all.

Once I finish that, I’ll move onto the shed where we keep the bee woodenware, clean it up and consolidate everything we’re going to move. Then, removing the electric fence and all its accessories. Finally, a soil test for the garden. May not make all of this over the weekend, but plenty of it.

Over the last week certain aspects of the move have become clearer to me, moving from the background to the foreground. Taking a year, living in the move, is a pace I can live with and not become anxious. Still, there is the fact that it takes a year or so which is a long time. So far it feels like matters are happening at the time they need to. When the question arises, an answer appears.

The Ties That Bind

Lughnasa                                                                       College Moon

We’re gathering little clutches of cash together for moving related expenses. We cashed out some non-performing CD’s, have sold various items we didn’t want to move and just sold Kate’s silver from her first marriage plus some assorted gold pieces.

There are a lot of sunk costs in this process. The maintenance we’re having done outside, whatever inside work needs to be done, working with SortTossPack (which generates revenue, too) and then the move itself. There will be, too, various packing costs like crates for our big paintings, special boxes for the tv’s and other electronics. All come out of our pocket before we sell the house (if we buy in Colorado before we sell).

None of this is a surprise, all components of any move that involves selling and buying real property. We do these dances with material things, dances that mimic George Carlin’s famous skit. Yes, I suppose we could shrug off the house, the furniture, the books, the art, the quilting machinery, the pots and pans, the garden implements. I suppose we could.

But we will not. Because the world reels us in with the hand of a grandchild, the bark of a dog, the growth of a garlic bulb, we will not. Our life, our path, is not that of the ascetic, though the ascetic teaches us not to confuse our things with our lives. Our life, our path, is not that of the hedonist, though the hedonist teaches us to love certain things which give us pleasure. Our life is a thread, a small part of the larger tapestry being woven of our time.

We’ll add our thread, tied already to those of children and grand-children, land and plants, the lives of dogs and friends. The weft shuttles us across the warp threads laid down by the physical and larger political changes. Our presence is subtle, as is that of any particular thread in a tapestry, but consider, without each thread the tapestry will not emerge. There will be only warp threads sagging with nothing to hold them together.

We matter-and so do you-even though we are, each of us, only tiny instances in the even larger tapestry being woven now by our galaxy, our cluster, our super-cluster and that one part of another so vast we cannot comprehend it. This is what the Greeks knew when they composed their great masterpieces. Fate is not a hand from the future that plucks your thread toward a necessary spot; rather, fate is the story of stories already told, visible only after the thread is in the tapestry.

 

More Moving

Lughnasa                                                          College Moon

The boxes are in the house for the final round of book packing for right now. Over the long weekend we plan to clean out our sheds, repair the fire pit, remove the wires from the fences put there to foil dogs and get a soil test done for the next steward of these lands.

There will be a three-ring binder with planting maps, options for caring for the fruit trees and shrubs, the perennials and utilization of the raised beds and other vegetable growing areas. A small library of Minnesota specific gardening books will be on a shelf. A well-functioning lawn tractor, bee-keeping start-up kit, a hydroponic kit for seed starting and a crystal chandelier in the kid’s playhouse will all stay behind, no longer relevant to our mountain home.

If certain decisions we’re making now prove fruitful, we could buy a new home in January, moving one, or even both of us out there that month or the next. I know, moving to Colorado in the winter, from Minnesota. Sounds like madness, but there may be some very good reasons to do it.

 

Of Cabbages and Mortgages

Lughnasa                                                                  College Moon

In to our financial consultant today. Issue: getting to Colorado and into a house we want inside our means. To my surprise she recommends qualifying for two mortgages and purchasing a home in Colorado before or during the sale of this house. This takes a little getting used to as an idea for me. Intuitively paying two mortgages when you can only live in one house doesn’t make sense to me. But that’s the intuition of the middle-class guy who grew up in Indiana in circumstances where financial flexibility was not even an idea.

In our case we have cash flow, assets and available cash that can make this idea work. Deep breath. Let it out. It has a lot to commend it. It makes moving, especially moving the dogs, much easier. It makes doing work on a new place easier since Jon is out there already and competent. It solves one end of the equation allowing us to focus here solely on selling the house.

There are risks. What if it takes a very long time to sell this house? What if the price we get for it falls below our preferred minimum? But, life has risk associated with it and this is manageable. So I’m inclined to go for it. This is an all-in move.

Creating a Schooner from a Merchant Ship

Lughnasa                                                                             College Moon

Heretical thought in my universe. Whew, all those books boxed up. Maybe I can just do without. Make them all red tape boxes. There’s a sense of liberation as the shelves empty and the areas around begin to breathe again, more space now, less like a scholar’s burrow. All my friends who’ve gone through this process, this decluttering have expressed similar feelings. Lifted off my back. Freer. Less weight. Less drag. Less. And in this case less is less, not more. Moving toward enough, away from trying to capture everything you like and hold it hostage at home.

Response to heresy. No, the time is not yet for jettisoning everything. This is not a sinking ship, nor is it a ship in trouble that needs to be lighter. This is a ship that will move more gracefully with less sail. That’s happening, has already happened.

There is another round to come, too. The third removal, after the move. The realization that this is not needed here, in the new place. Which will call out its own needs. Unknown now.

 

 

Books. Most now in boxes.

Lughnasa                                                                                     College Moon

The last bookcases. That’s where the packing has gone. Now China and Cambodia and the West and Emerson goes in boxes. Green tape boxes. More China, then onto the Celts and the Greeks, philosophy, American history, fairy tales.

Just moved the last gathering of liquor store boxes needed for books. Kate gets them, I unload them, then fill’em up, tape’m and stack’em. Objet d’art are on the now empty bookshelves in the larger basement area. Before Sort/Toss/Pack comes near the end of September, they’ll get sorted on a love it or leave it basis. Gotta cut them down, too.

We’re looking at the overall budget for the move now, preparing for a meeting with a financial consultant. Gonna take a dent out all round, but we’ll have plenty.

We’ve been fortunate, with Kate’s good earning capacity, and smart. We have enough and I couldn’t be more grateful for that. Still, you’d have to climb further up the wealth ladder to get to can-do-whatever-we-want.

 

 

Ropes Slacken More

Lughnasa                                                               College Moon

At the State Fair yesterday. Realized, as with the garden, how much my thoughts of next year and the year after were tied up in what I did today. I no longer went through the Agriculture building with a keen eye for new information, stuff I wouldn’t have found otherwise. Say, a new apple. Maybe a new way to compost or treat troublesome weeds. A different method for keeping bees healthy.

Also, that building where local groups like the Sierra Club present information, help you connect to networks in state. Didn’t even visit it.

That’s why, when Kate and I both realized we’d gone as far our legs were going to carry us, we hit the skyride for a trip over the fairgrounds and back to the express bus lot.

Still, there were memories there, of years volunteering at the DFL booth or the Sierra Club booth or, long ago, as a State Fair chaplain (mostly monitoring lost kids. though, come to think of it, I wonder how folks would feel about that these days?). Cheese curds. Foot long hot dogs. I can even remember drinking beer at the fair. That’s reaching pretty far back into my Minnesota past.

The sense of pulling back, pulling away, of not-quite any longer a full Minnesotan took something from the fair for me. It was not mine in the same sense it had been before. Not as much a shared experience, like the weather, that helps define Minnesota. Not shared fully because part of me has gone ahead to the mountains. To the Great Western National Stockshow.

The circus tent has considerable slack in the ropes. The rings and the bleachers have been packed. The moment when the elephants are called to strike the big tent? Not yet. Not for a while. But we don’t want to let them wander too far away. They will be needed.

Back to the packing. The end of book packing for right now (the bookshelf immediately beside the desk will remain loaded until this room has to be vacated for staging.) is in sight. Perhaps today. Then there are files and art objects, office supplies, novel manuscripts. Still a lot to do, but a lot less than existed three months ago.

Red tape, green tape

Lughnasa                                                      New (College) Moon

IMAG0572Today Islam went in a green tape box. Some of it. Those Tafsir books I got at the Dar-el Salaam Mosque in 2012. Red box. A bunch of outdated travel guides: Thailand, South America, Venice, Turkey. Some books on India and Japan, too. But I kept a bunch on Islam, Japan, Korea, India and Hinduism.

Now the empty bookshelves outnumber the filled, the boxes have begun to assume mass, large rectangles with colorful liquor ads spread out in random patterns. The green tape boxes now far outnumber the red, though a very large number of red have already gone. As the book mounds grow and the shelves stand empty, the reality of Colorado comes closer.

Colorado Gardening-for thinking gardeners-came yesterday. Not sure how they got this address, some random form filling probably, but the news is welcome. Up in Idaho Springs, Clear Creek County, our target destination, the last frost of the season looks like it will come on time, September 12th. Makes the necessity of hoops and plastic evident.

A Confrontation About Time

Lughnasa                                                                    New (College) Moon

This week on the calendar I have on Monday through Saturday: pack, Latin. Thursday will be our state fair day. Other than that packing, Latin and work in the garden will occupy us.

Today and until I’m done I will be packing the study in which I work every day. That means the sorting will get harder, green tape boxes outnumbering red tape ones. Probably by a lot. It also means the confrontation between time remaining (in my life) and the projects (intellectual and creative) that keep me excited will come center stage. I’ll try to sort out the ones I feel I can fruitfully engage over the next 20 years from the ones I can’t.

That means I’m considering active intellectual and creative work at least into my late 80’s. That feels like a stretch, maybe, but one I believe my health and potential longevity justifies.

Let me give you an idea of what I have in mind. Complete the translation of Ovid’s Metamorphosis. Write at least four more novels. Write essays or a book on Reimagining My Faith. Write and read much more poetry. Write essays or a book on matters related to the Enlightenment, liberal thought, modernism. Write essays or a book on matters related to the Great Work. Include in this work considered attention to Asian literature, art and thought, especially Chinese and Indian. Continue regular art historical research and write essays about aesthetics and particular art/artists.

Why? Because I can. I’ve no evidence so far that my thinking is strikingly original or unusually deep, but my intellectual maturation has taken a longer time than I imagined it would. So the best may yet be ahead. Or so it feels to me. Under any circumstances such work will keep me alert and focused.

As for right now. Where are those empty boxes?