Lughnasa Labor Day Moon
Category Archives: Jefferson County
On the Path
Lughnasa Labor Day Moon
Two hours in the dentist’s chair yesterday. Cleaning, followed by a crown prep and filling two cavities. When Kate came back from the dentist on Wednesday talking about the sticky fluoride treatment she’d received, it made me realize we’ve had no fluoride in our water for over 20 years. Living with our own well.
Took Gabe and Ruth to the Upper Maxwell Falls trail yesterday afternoon. We didn’t make it to the falls, instead wandering off on an alternate trail that climbed through jumbles of boulders and large, rocky cliffs. The regular trail is very popular in spite of its out of the way location. Over the summer there have been no fewer than six cars and often twenty parked at the trailhead.
We examined plants. Ruth found a snake (she wants one for a pet.), but it slithered away 
beneath the rocks. We climbed on the rocks and looked out. Nature provides something new, something noteworthy every foot or so. It was a slow hike. Here were lichen, familiar forms from Minnesota. There was a very late blooming Indian Paint Brush, its fiery bloom resting on the ground. The trees, some of them, were huge, trunks so big that Gabe, Ruth and I couldn’t get our arms around them holding hands.
Maxwell Creek exerted the magnetic attraction that water has for humans. We went down twice to be closer to it, the first time we crossed over to the alternative trail that we followed. The second time we crossed back to the Falls trail. Ruth talked about some camp counselors who followed a mountain stream to its source, an artesian spring, drinking from it, since “water is never fresher.”
Being in the Arapaho National Forest has its own version of mindfulness, one in which attention leaves the world of the day-to-day and focuses on an interesting rock, a blooming flower, the sound of water rushing over rocks, the view from a boulder. The eye scans for what is new or unfamiliar, being delighted constantly by a patch of cowslip, a bit of lichen on a lodgepole pine, a small squirrel playing peek-a-book around a thin aspen trunk.
Ruth and I are going back this morning, taking Kepler along in his harness.
A Green Rocky Mountain August
Lughnasa Labor Day Moon
Rain continues to come to the mountains. When Kate and I went out early this morning to Evergreen for our business meeting, there was dew on the grass, tips of the spruce needles and faint wisps of vapor rising from the valley floor. The intensity of green reminded both of us of the Midwest, of northern Minnesota. Usually, Shadow Mountain and its neighbors would be taken over by browns and dull greens. Not this year.
Our lives continue, with each small journey through the mountains, to become more and more embedded here, memories filling us up with Colorado. Not in place of Minnesota, no, but adding to those memories. And calling these new ones memories of home.
We visited IKEA and ordered the last of the bookshelves, 5 more. Cybergremlins have attacked our credit card online, not hackers, but ones making it difficult in certain instances to get websites to accept our valid account. As a result, we had to get in the car, drive down the mountain, go south on Hwy 470 along the Front Range, get off at Yosemite Street and proceed to the large blue monument to Swedish efficiency on IKEA way in Centennial. There, we made the exact same order I had to tried to make online, used the same credit card and had a successful experience.
The whole trip reminded us of the real benefits of buying online. The physical moving is left up to the product, not the purchaser. Of course, while wandering the intentionally maze-like corridors of the IKEA store, we did find that wonderful children’s storage and table combination and a probable small table for our breakfast area. That wouldn’t have happened online. On balance I would rather have stayed home and discovered both another way.
Looking for a Sign from God?
Lughnasa New Labor Day Moon
As you head into the foothills on Hwy. 285, there is one of those digital signs. The first night I drove up here to Black Mountain Drive it read: Watch for Wildlife. Seeing that l.e.d. message made me feel like I was going home, even that first night. After all the rain we’ve had this summer, it now reads: Watch for Rocks and Wildlife. This is not Round Lake Boulevard in Andover.
Another sign, at a Catholic Church in Woodland where we were last Saturday: If you’re looking for a sign from God, this may be it.
Bush-hogging. Another term new to me. Someone wanted a bush-hogger for their property. I looked it up. Oh, it’s one of those mower things pulled behind a tractor.
A part of grandparent immersion, this week and next, is taking the kids back, every other day or so, in the late afternoon. Due to rush hour on I-70, “that I-70 mess” as our mortgage banker referred to it, we’ve taken the opportunity to find new restaurants and new sections of Denver.
Last night we ate at Leña on South Broadway. “Leña is a Latin American inspired upscale, casual restaurant with a fun, vibrant atmosphere, focused on sharing and communal dining. The name translates to “firewood”, and a white oak, wood fired grill serves as a culinary focal point, offering a vast asado selection of grilled meats, seafood, and vegetables.”
Good food, buzzy, hipster atmosphere. Another new term to me: check presenter. When we tried to return a book to a customer who had just left, a waiter informed us that the book was, “their check presenter.” Sure enough, when it came time to pay, the same book came to our table with the check in the flyleaf. It contained, too, a note from an apparently very happy gay customer. Somewhat, well, no, a lot, blue.
After the meal, we walked up Broadway toward the car. Leaning over the sidewalk facing counter at Sweet Action, an ice cream joint a couple of doors away, were a woman and her three kids, eating ice cream cones. I nodded to her since they had been sitting near us in Lena and said, “I thought about stopping here.” She smiled and said, “This is the way you top it off.” There was something warm in her reply, inclusive, and it made me feel welcome in this neighborhood.
#thisisironic
Lughnasa Recovery Moon
Yesterday finally got Herb, the ex-Minnesota, ex-Andover resident, ex-USAF guy to put in the gas line for our generator install and the gas stove we intend to buy for the kitchen. Under the #thisisironic hashtag our power went out that morning around 3 a.m. It was out all day, not coming back on until around 10 p.m. If we’d been able to get this done last week…
Something happened to a power pole. The problem was, a Colorado mountain problem, that the pole was located at some high, distant location. This means they had to bring helicopters and crews that work from them.
Over the course of the day we heard small town gossip that power was out until today at the earliest. Maybe Wednesday. Doesn’t sound like much, I know. But we’re on our own well, like our neighbors. No electricity, no water. This was the primary reason for our owning a generator in the first place. Of course, it’s also true, no electricity, no heat. And, in our current, pre-kitchen renovation state, no way to cook hot food. Electric stove.
Before surgery I could not eat and thought only of food, yesterday, when we had no electricity, we thought only of the things we were missing. No stove. No lights. No water. No news. No way to recharge cell phones. No internet. No TV. No garage door opener.
We live a life of great privilege. It’s easy to forget that until something basic gets taken away, even for a short while. In Maslow’s hierarchy the very bottom of the pyramid is taken by the Hullian needs: air, water, food, the essentials of survival. If you don’t have them, that’s where your attention is. Electricity, in our technology/appliance dependent culture, is only one step further up the pyramid.
The world is big and most of it doesn’t have dependable electricity, huge swaths of humanity don’t have enough food or water. Like meatless Fridays, an electricityless day now and then is good for the soul.
Fire
Beltane Closing Moon
Fire mitigation is on my mind. Firewise is a project of the National Fire Protection Association and has wide exposure here in Colorado. They recommend defensible space, 30 feet out from the house no trees, shrubs, fuel. Trees out to 50 feet or so limbed up to 10 feet so fire can’t skip from ladder fuels (shrubs, grass) to tree branches. That’s considered only good sense up here on Shadow Mountain.
And, to show you that no good deed goes unpunished, the very wet, fire repressing May and June (thunder outside right now) we’re having, will nourish grass and shrubs. They’ll make excellent ladder fuels in the dry time of late June and July. Geez.
Our property’s not in bad shape in terms of defensible space. The previous owner seems to have done much of what’s suggested. To make sure though I’m having the deputy chief of the Elk Creek Fire District come out next Thursday to do a fire mitigation assessment.
Still working on the idea of an external fire sprinkler system. I’ve read many websites, pdf’s. Lots of options, including a few that don’t use water, but spray fire retardant chemicals. Managed to confuse myself, so I e-mailed the state coordinator for wildfire mitigation and asked her to comment on their utility. Lots of wind apparently renders them near to useless and high winds accompany most mountain fires.
Also, they need enough water for 3 hours of continuous sprinkling, 2 hours before the fire to create a moist micro-climate and one hour afterward to protect against embers blown back. That’s likely a good bit more than our well can handle which would require an in-ground water tank.
A new place, new challenges. All part of becoming native to this place.
For Mary
Beltane Closing Moon
Golden
Beltane Closing Moon
To the Colorado Geology Museum on the Colorado School of Mines’ campus. Introducing Mary to the geological and mining heritage of our new home. Struck up a conversation with the clerk in the gift shop, always a School of Mines’ student. She was a geological engineer and headed for work in a petroleum or mining related job.
“Both are cyclical,” she said, in response to my question, “But both are at the bottom of their cycles right now.” She has no job and her geological engineer spouse does. “But,” she said a tad ruefully (they both graduated last month), “teaching middle school science.” In St. Louis.
I’ve not yet raised the question about environmental effects with any of these students , still feeling my way into the local culture. But, I intend to.
After the Geology Museum we went into downtown Golden. It has this odd theme: Denver stole the title of capital from us and we’ve been working ever since to bring you things worth seeing. Snarky, a self-put down and, to me, unpleasant.
We had some yogurt. Kate and Mary went to the quilt museum which apparently had a wonderful exhibit while I wandered the main street poking my head into shops. None of them really grabbed. The art galleries were full of yesterday’s ideas and tomorrow’s kitsch. The gift shops had the usual assortment of inexpensive gemstones, bottle cap openers with your name on the handle, hats and t-shirts and sweatshirts with Golden somewhere written on them. I did see one piece I liked. A pillow with a hand sewn Colorado flag featured an elk in the lotus position. Sounds cheesy, but the execution was good.
Eventually I sat down in the shade. Just another 68 year old guy waiting for his wife to come to the quilt shop.
Visiting
Beltane Closing Moon
Mary always brings gifts, this time beautiful cloth for Kate from Indonesia and items of anthropological interest for me, including a small book of odd superstitions common in Singapore. In another post I’ll share some of them with you.
Visiting family and friends requires real commitment on her part since it’s about 9100 miles from Singapore to Denver. That’s roughly ten times the Minneapolis/Denver distance. How she endures all that international flying, I don’t know. I find it exhausting and maddening, one in direct relation to the other.
Last night we all three went to the Fort, the restaurant I wrote about before that was built to imitate Bent’s Fort, an 1830’s trading company’s place of business in what is now southern Colorado. They serve what would have been available on the menu at Bent’s Fort: bison, elk, quail, lamb, beef though I notice Shrimp Veracruz and Quinoa, which Mary had last night, have been added.
The Fort is all adobe construction with thick tree trunks as support beams and pillars. It overlooks, from high among the red rocks of the Fountain Formation in Morrison, the twinkling lights of Denver about 20 miles in the distance. The staff dresses somewhat like voyageur’s, appropriate since Bent’s Fort did business with French trappers and traders who worked closely with native peoples here as they did in the far north.
Closing Moon
Beltane Closing Moon
The closing moon has presided over the sale of 3122 153rd Ave. Northwest, Andover, Minnesota, 55304. We only needed one buyer and, in fact, had only one offer. But, it was a good one, from a couple that will continue our work with the land and with bees. That they want the raised beds, the orchards, the hydroponics, the bee woodenware and will use them all feels like a legacy. And a profound one.
Feels so good to have this behind us. A settled feeling, residing somewhere below the heart, has begun to permeate me. There is no longer that agitated sense that we do not quite belong on Shadow Mountain, that a tie from yesterday makes us not fully present in our new home.
Over the weekend I entertained, briefly, what would happen if the deal with the Vorhee’s fell through. The house would have to go back on the market. We’d continue with two mortgages and utilities. The uncertainty would continue, perhaps through the summer. And, we would have to drop the price again. That felt dismal, like sinking in the great swamp of that name.
Now I can concentrate on dealing with prostate cancer with a single focus, not one divided by financial concerns. I’m confident that the prostate cancer journey will have a good outcome, too, but the path forward still has some unknowns, mostly what sort of treatment we’ll choose. That unknown should disappear on June 11th, after then only the execution and recovery.