Fall Hunter Moon
The 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.”
On 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.
In 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.
Divorce matters seem finally to be breaking Jon’s way. Can’t say more than that right now, but I’m glad.
Elizabeth itself is a small rural community that could have been anywhere, usa. It has a small historic downtown; that is, older retail buildings repurposed into boutiques and a fiber art store and antique shops. Mainstreet is Co. Highway 86 and there is the obligatory Walmart anchored, downtown killer of a strip mall on the edge of town.
My head says ethnobotany. Our culture chooses our diet for us, decides which foods are tasty, which gross, which taboo. Our bodies are neither obligate carnivore nor obligate vegetarian. We are designed by evolution as omnivores, able, thankfully, to eat what the world places in front of us, be it plant or animal. This is a great advantage for us as a species and has allowed us to thrive in many diverse climates. There is nothing wrong, then, about eating meat, either from a biological or cultural perspective. Meat is simply one source of food.
To purchase their meat was to kill them as surely as if I took a rifle out and shot them. Back in 1974 I moved onto the Peaceable Kingdom, a farm Judy and I bought in Hubbard County, Minnesota, the county home to the headwaters of the Mississippi. We had goats and decided we wanted to barbecue some goat meat. Johnny Lampo, the man who rented our fields and farmed them, gave me his rifle and I killed one of our our goats. I’ve not been the same since. I can’t even euthanize our dogs.
So this evening when Kate cooks the ribeye steaks thawing right now in our sink, I plan to add a small ritual to the lighting of the shabbos candles and the sharing of challah. We will remember the animal that died so that we may eat, so that our bodies might be strong. We will thank this particular individual for the role he or she plays in our daily life. We will acknowledge the cycle of life, the interlocking web of life and our mutual parts in it.
Standing Rock Pipeline. This reminds me, on a much larger scale, of the occupation of Wounded Knee back in 1973. Wounded Knee had the ever-present danger of violence. Radical veterans of the Vietnam War had brought their rifles and placed themselves between the Federal Marshals and the A.I.M. folks in Wounded Knee.
Spent another evening at Montview Elementary with Jon, Ruth and Gabe. We ate a light supper of foods selected at King Sooper (grocery store chain here), then began to make more prints. Ruth has gotten into the spirit of found objects used as surfaces for print making. She bought some things at Goodwill to print: a leaf shaped metal serving dish and a small metal kitchen utensil that looks surprisingly like a giraffe when inked. I printed another spoon, gray-white this time. Gabe made wheeled objects with something like tinker-toys.
After the printmaking, Jen picked up Ruth and Gabe. I headed over to I-70, turned onto it going west and drove into this amazing sunset. The mountain silhouette in the evenings often looks like a Potemkin village, a prop set against the backdrop of a falling sun. This night it was something.
Palisade, Colorado has had a bumper peach harvest. There is a small area on the Western Slope that has an ideal peach growing microclimate. They have other crops, too: lavender, apples, sweet corn, strawberries and vegetables. The newspapers have carried photo spreads of workers in the orchards with peach baskets gently picking and placing the delicate fruit into baskets. Back in Andover, this time of year, the honey harvest would be in, the raspberries just beginning. I would be out planting garlic and pulling the last plantings of carrots, beets, leeks and onions. This is the peak harvest season, when the land and its workers combine to feed millions, even billions of people.
Being so far removed from farms and large truck gardens feels strange to this former Midwestern lifer. No more so than in this long harvest season. Corn pickers and combines have begun to roll through fields. The state fairs have swept up 4-H’er raised cattle, pigs, sheep, chickens. The vegetable harvest has peaked. Self pick apple orchards have hayrides and cider stations set out. Not there, though.
Labor Day does mark the winding down of one season long harvest up here: tourist dollars from Denver folks. July and August are the heaviest tourist months for our favorite mountain town, Evergreen. We’re not a winter tourist destination, at least not like the ski resorts, so the roads will have less traffic and fewer visitors in Evergreen’s restaurants.
