Category Archives: Colorado

Summer’s Exhaust

Lughnasa                                                              Lughnasa Moon

Summer’s exhaust has begun to hit our nights as warmer days recede slowly toward the equator.  The light has begun to change, especially in the evenings, but visible during the day as well, coming to us at a different angle. The change is noticeable now, a month and a half after the sun’s greatest height of the year on the Solstice. These subtle clues cue birds and other animals to begin edging toward migration or fur growing or nut gathering. They come to each living thing in a scale appropriate to the action needed, less subtle to the birds and the bees, more subtle to us large mammals.

I’m celebrating the ending of my last northern summer, one I’ll trade next year for a mountain summer, which must be as distinctive in its own way. When I moved north, now 45 years ago, I wanted cleaner breaks between seasons. And I got them. I’ve appreciated the heat and humidity of summer here. The cool blue of fall. The icy depths of winter and the explosive coming of spring. Moving west into the mountains, I’m hoping to modulate the heat and humidity of summer and lessen the brutality of the winter.

It might have been my August trips to Stratford, Ontario as a boy that made me yearn for the northern summer. Along Lake Huron then the skies were heart-breaking, a mix of faded heat and oncoming chill. I felt stimulated, alive both to the weather and to the cultural tradition of Shakespeare and the theater. It was then, too, in 1963 at the Black Swan Coffee House in Stratford that I first heard a radical critique of American policy in Vietnam. Perhaps those things forged a bond, the northern summer and activism, because they’ve been joined since my move to Wisconsin in 1969 only six years later.

 

 

Progress

Lughnasa                                                                Lughnasa Moon

I’ve made substantial progress on the garden study. Two bookshelves empty, the other sorted and now awaiting only a new round of boxes from G-will Liquors. One file cabinet liquor boxesis empty, too, as are most of the other pieces of furniture in the room. What remains are two full drawers of a four drawer horizontal file cabinet and part of the third, though the files in that drawer will go in the trash, so no decisions to be made.

It’s the decisions that slow me down. And the memories. And sometimes the memories make the decisions hard. Sometimes not. I found a young picture of Jon from a camping trip he and I took about ten years ago. Bridget, Emma’s sister, and given to Jon as a companion when he lived alone, stood there healthy and alert, a beauty. The pictures all stayed, of course. In other cases I found old copies of colonoscopy prep instructions. Out. Ah, the memories those invoked.

Tomorrow I have to review my Latin for a Friday session with Greg. On Thursday I have lunch with Margaret and Justin from the Sierra Club. On Friday, breakfast with Mark before my time with Greg.

This means I probably won’t finish the study until the weekend. Later than I wanted, but not by much. After that, a rest and then I’ll tackle the main event. Editing my life’s ambitions down to a size befitting the time and energy that remains. Believe it or not, I look forward to it.

Shorter, More Intense

Lughnasa                                                          Lughnasa Moon

Did some climatological research yesterday about the Idaho Springs area. This is life a 7,500 feet +. It’s cooler when Minnesota is hotter and warmer when Minnesota is colder. So far, perfect. Still winter, but not so brutal. The gardening zone, based on winter low temps is 5a. That’s roughly what Andover is said to be these days though I find it more like 4b. Still, let’s call it equivalent.

The big differences are in rainfall, about half of Andover’s in Idaho Springs, and growing season. The first frost in Idaho Springs is between September 1st and September 10 over against October 5-10 for Andover. The last frost was the big surprise to me-between June 21 and June 31. An early last frost would come on the Summer Solstice!

So. This will be a far different gardening environment from Andover, one requiring either starting of plants  or protecting plants planted outside or both. One factor I haven’t researched because I’m not sure how to is the strength of the sun. Elevation both thins the air and puts the garden closer physically to the sun. This results in a higher UV index overall and I imagine (and stepson Jon says it’s so) this will result in accelerated plant growth. If I can prevent the sun from burning the plants.

This will all require a lot of new learning, but it will be that learning that will eventually marry me to a new spot on the planet. I’m looking forward to it.

Weighty

Lughnasa                                                       Lughnasa Moon

Today I’ve had constant reminders of the physicality of books. They’re wide and their width has to be considered when packing them. Individually, as a rule, books are not heavy, but in the aggregate, they can be very heavy. Art books, printed on paper adequate for taking and retaining high quality color prints, are even heavier and today I have packed box after box of books on aesthetics, modern and contemporary art, art history, Chinese and Japanese art.

Over the course of these months since deciding to move, I’ve often wondered, is the last time I’ll do this in Minnesota? But packing these books, I wondered, am I among the last of those who will pack books for a move? Books are physical objects, present at the human level of perception in the world. The books I read on my kindle though are not physical objects, at least not in this macro sense. I cannot see the individual books, heft them, page through them, smell them.

This bothers some people a great deal, but not me. I’m not a bibliophile. I’m a lover of content and the medium is not so important to me. Reading the physical books is better for scholarly purposes, at least for now. In those books creating marginalia, paging through to a new idea, then back again is all part of the process of learning, at least for those of us who use texts. My guess is that there will come a time, not too long from now, when the readers will be what are often called digital natives. They will demand tools adequate for scholarship on their books of bits and bytes. And they will get them.

Then books will join scrolls and papyri as mediums for containing the word, the word having moved on to other less weighty realms. When I put my kindle in my backpack on that last day headed for Colorado, I’ll have 1,000 books or so along. And they’ll weigh less than a pound.

 

 

A Purging We Will Go

Lughnasa                                                     Lughnasa Moon

Over the weekend and as deep into this week as I need to go, I’m packing up my former study. I’ve purged one file cabinet and consolidated its content into boxes for moving. A horizontal cabinet awaits attention. A large plastic tub full of art supplies went into the move with care pile. One small bookcase has been emptied and moved. The shop work bench I’ve used for storage is empty, too. That old printer, the one I bought in 1994, is in the truck and ready to go to a recycler.  An HP laserjet, it still functions.  That leaves three larger bookcases and some miscellaneous things on various surfaces, plus the art on the walls.

(what I hope to create in Colorado, my own version of this.)

When this room has been tidied up, the next and last big push begins. My study. This room has walls of books. Many will go in boxes with red tape, but most will not. The other areas have gone well, but this one will present some difficulty. So many projects. Some of the past, some of the future, some of today. Which ones do I imagine I’ll continue in Colorado? Which ones have enough spark to be valuable in the final third of my life? These are hard decisions for me and packing this room will be both valuable and difficult.

This is a chance to prune my work over the last third of my life, clear out the branches that have grown across each other. Take out that large branch that flourished then died. Increase the circulation amongst the remaining branches so they have air, can breathe. Pruning gives renewed vigor to plants and I hope to achieve the same thing when I pack up these materials, those closest to my heart, leaving behind what I no longer need.

Headline I Never Thought I’d See. Wonder if they were made by 4-H’ers?

Lughnasa                                                                    Lughnasa Moon

a headline I never thought I’d see, in the Denver Post: handmade bongs and marijuana laced brownies. Colorado here we come.

Blue-ribbon weed: Denver County Fair pot showcase kicks off

“DENVER — Marijuana joined roses and dahlias Friday in blue ribbon events at the nation’s first county fair to allow pot competitions.

Edible products did require tasting. A secret panel of judges sampled brownies and other treats earlier this month at an undisclosed location.

“At first the judges were eating them all, but by the end they were really feeling it, so they just tasted them and spit them out,” Cain said with a laugh. “We offered them cabs home.”



The winning brownie was made with walnuts and dark chocolate. Top prize was $20 and a blue ribbon…

“For the handmade bong contest, three industry insiders judged 17 entries for craftsmanship, creativity — and functionality.

“It has to be something special, something you’d want to use,” said judge Robert Folse, who works at a pot dispensary as a “budtender,” sort of a sommelier for marijuana.”

Moving/Gardening Fatigue

Lughnasa                                                                 Lughnasa Moon

Both of us have experienced moving/gardening fatigue this week. Living in the move helps, but it doesn’t eliminate the stress of so many decisions large and small and the feeling of hanging over a precipice neither able to fall or retreat. The garden, we both realize, has grown beyond our energy levels, not our capacities, though there is not a functional difference.

It’s a relief to share these feelings, to know that your partner has the slows as well as you. Of course, that’s the definition of a good relationship, sharing the journey, the ancientrail of marriage.

Even with these feelings I harvested what became eleven pints of canned collard greens, enough chard to last us for several meals, carrots and beets we’ve already eaten. Also, I have gotten a fair way toward packing up my garden study, tossing no longer needed files, boxing no longer needed books. The Dremel and some books on Chinese went in one box to move. Two garbage bags weighted down with paper are in the larger recycling bin delivered last week. A file box containing material from a file cabinet I plan to sell is full.

Plus this week we met with our final realtor and looked over material she sent us this morning in our business meeting. Not like nothing’s happening. Just weary of it this week. This will pass.

 

A Swimmer’s Tale

Summer                                                              Lughnasa Moon

Just finished a BBC series, Life on Mars, recommended by sister Mary. Thanks, Mary. This series is a real mind bender. I can’t say why without giving away a lot of the plot, but if you enjoy mystery with a dose of science fiction, this British drama will appeal to you.

We selected a realtor today, a woman who believes the grounds, the vegetable garden and the orchard are selling points. She’s the daughter of Mary Thorpe, Margaret, and works with Mary at Coldwell-Banker in Minneapolis.

Mary Thorpe brought her Portuguese Water Dog with her, a small black dog with a soft curly coat. Mary took her to a friends who lived on a lake. Minnie, the dog, was in the water a lot. The next day her tail was between her legs even though she seemed happy. At the dog park another dog owner diagnosed the problem, swimmer’s tail. Turns out Portuguese Water Dogs use their tail as a rudder when they swim and when they’re in the water for extended periods the the muscle where the tail joins the body gets over used.

 

Money, Money, Money

Summer                                                        New (Lughnasa) Moon

Kate and I went to Keys for breakfast this morning, had our business meeting there. We’ve started tallying the cost of moving, that is, the cost of those things we’ll pay related to getting to Colorado. There’s some yard work, some handyman work, some painting, moving itself of course, but inside that is the cost of moving and storing items during staging the house.

We’ll have art service professionals build wooden crates for the large Jeremiah Miller paintings we own. Each one is 67″ by 68″ with no glass to protect the painting. There’ll be the cost of specialty boxes for the electronics, the other art we have framed and any other items too fragile to trust to the moving company.

There will be, of course, costs associated with buying and selling houses, but that should get covered in the transactions themselves. Then there will be setting up house related expenses in Colorado. Painting, building this or that, fencing, raised beds, that sort of thing.

It will be expensive to move even if we do well on the sale of the house and I’m guessing that we will. Not a surprise. Just important to get all the costs at least estimated so we don’t have any big unexpected costs.

 

Flowing With The Move

Summer                                                          Most Heat Moon

When we are ready, a house will appear. I believe this. We’ve looked at many, many houses online now. Kate’s visited several parts of Colorado and we’ve narrowed our geographical preference. By the time next February comes, we’ll have clarity about what we want, what we need. The one available at that time, our next house, will emerge out of the clutter of competing listings, we’ll find it. And buy it.

Before that, we finish decluttering this house, getting it ready for the market. We look at our pared down furnishings, get out the tape measure and figure the room we need for our own creative spaces. That will help us decide just how much we need in a new home, or new home plus out buildings.

All of this living in the move means staying in the flow toward Colorado, realizing where the energy naturally goes at this stage and following it. Putting our shoulders behind work at the time it needs to be done means we use the momentum of change to our benefit. Easier than fighting against it, trying to push things to move faster. Then the momentum of change works against us.

We can, now, decide on communities, specific locales like Idaho Springs, Golden, the I-70 corridor. We can, now, pack and declutter, packing those things we won’t use until next year and throwing those things we no longer need. SortTossPack has come once already and they’ll come again, probably around Labor Day. Later in the fall the yard work contractors will prune and mulch, declutter the front.

Kate and I will probably head out to Colorado for Thanksgiving together, so I can drive around with her. We’ll stay two or three nights in Golden, then another two or three in Idaho Springs. Get to know some people. By that time our house should have left, unpacked, only those things we’ll need through the move.

Then, in December or January we’ll finish up the physical modifications that need to get done for staging the house. And we’ll begin actively checking the market in Colorado. Looking for that house that is ready for us.