Category Archives: Park County

Snow Dominant

Imbolc                                                                          Stock Show Moon

mountain lion 1.16.16 near Mt. Bailey
mountain lion 2.1.16 near Mt. Bailey

The snow. A lot more overnight. Beautiful, foggy on Black Mountain. Lodgepole branches white and bowing toward the earth awaiting a wind to slough off the snow. We become snow hermits, watching the flakes fall in our forested backyard, feeling a part of the mountain in a way not possible under other weather conditions.

It’s funny, but the snow, which dominates life when it comes in this quantity, is more important than Cruz beating Trump or Bernie tieing Hillary. We are apart from the lower, literally lower, 48 states, sitting up here on Shadow Mountain surrounded by other peaks and covered in white. The dominant note here is silence. Politics are too noisy, too bright and colorful to matter. And faraway.

This will change of course. In the way of Colorado the roads will be clear soon. The driveway, after I blow it, will also clear. The quiet will last a while though, as will the snow in the yard. Even warmer temperatures won’t touch that in the near term.

Right now our solar panels have a snowy cap maybe a foot deep, so no electricity from them until a melt. I’m going to investigate deep cycle batteries and see if there’s a combination of deep cycle batteries and our generator that might carry us off the grid entirely. That is not yet, however. For now we’re relying on IREA to pump electricity into our system.

 

Seafood Paella and Spanish Music

Yule                                                                      Stock Show Moon

Kate and I went to the Aspen Peak Winery in Bailey last night for seafood paella and Spanish music. I love local events and this one had a good combination of homemade ambiance and terrific food.

On the drive to Bailey, about 20 minutes under normal circumstances, we experienced rush hour on Highway 285. The event was at 6 pm and Bailey is west of us in Park County. Rush hour is rush hour, even in the mountains, and I would not want to make this commute every day, especially after a big snow storm.

Saw a pick-up with a funny, but biting bumper sticker: Save an elk, shoot a land developer. Sort of the flip-side to a 1970’s bumper sticker that has remained in my memory: Sierra Club, kiss my axe. That was in Ely, Minnesota during the debate over the creation of the Boundary Waters Wilderness Area.

Kate’s had a good, but long week organizing the kitchen. She’s ready to get back to sewing. Golden Solar is coming to finish the critter guards on our micro-inverters today. Tai Chi later this morning. Probably chainsaw work later today. The weekend.

Our First Fall in the Mountains

Lughnasa                                                                Labor Day Moon

Yesterday, driving on 285 west through the Platte Canyon toward Kenosha Pass, I could feel summer beginning to transition toward fall. The sky was a bit gray, the air brisk, a definite browning in the grasses and small shrubs along the North Fork of the South Platte. The sweet melancholy of autumn passed through me with a quiet shudder. This will be our first fall in Colorado.

These moments of awareness as seasons change carry with them the autumns of yesterday. The smell of leaves burning on the streets in my childhood Alexandria. The homecoming parade. The brilliant blaze that catches fire in Minnesota as oaks, maples, elms, ash, ironwood turn from their productive summer chlorophyll green to the color of the leaf itself. People heading north after Labor Day to close up their cabins. Kicking piles of leaves raked up in the yard. Jumping into them.

What will fall be like in the mountains? I know it will have splashes of gold as the aspens change. There will be brown, the desiccation of grasses and shrubs. But the view from my loft window to the west, which contains lodgepole pines on our property and the massif of Black Mountain in the distance, also covered with lodgepole, will still be green. I imagine the green might become duller, but I don’t know for sure. The angle of the sun will change, has changed already, but the basic green and blue, the sky above Black Mountain, will remain.

The temperatures, especially the nights, will cool down. The mule deer and elk rut are important to fall here, as is the hunger of black bears feeding themselves toward hibernation. A young mule deer buck was in Eduardo and Holly’s yard yesterday, velvet still on his antlers. We’ve seen no does for some time and wonder where they are. Perhaps waiting out the violence of the rut in secluded mountain meadows? They are, after all, its object.

Summer is always a paradox in the temperate zone. It brings warmth and growth, a loose freedom to wander outside with no coat. In that way it opens up the space around us, gives us more room. But the heat can become oppressive, driving people back indoors toward air conditioning. Humidity goes up; weather hazards like tornadoes, torrential rains, thunderstorms, derechoes increase. Here in the mountains, most years, the threat of wildfire spikes. As for me, I am usually happy to see summer slip away.

 

 

 

Summertime

Beltane                                                               Closing Moon

Summer. A time long ago sealed in our collective memories as special. School ends and a long, delicious emptiness opens up, one filled with spontaneous play, vacations, reading in cool corners of a yard or home. Granddaughter Ruth is here for an overnight after she and Grandma spent the afternoon at the Maker Faire held at the Denver Museum of Science. She built a tool box out of sheet metal, a catapult out of sticks and rubber bands, a musical robot, and a cardboard skyscraper among other things. Just right for summer.

Summer is also the time for family reunions and I’m missing both the Ellis reunion held in Texas and the Keaton reunion held this year at the family farm just outside Morristown, Indiana. The Keatons were my primary extended family since we lived in Indiana, not Oklahoma where most of my Ellis relatives reside. I was born in Oklahoma though Mom, Dad and I moved to Indiana when I was not quite 2 years old.Grandpa and Mabel Keaton

My sister, who is attending the Keaton reunion this year, sent this photograph of my grandfather, Charlie Keaton (after whom I’m named) and grandma Mabel in the hat, the couple on the left. My sister commented on grandma’s hat and the fact that I look like grandpa. Guess I do.

Summer is also a time, for me, when U.S. history seems to dominate my interests. This year, once I get past the interesting literature on my prostate, I’m going to focus on reading about the West and mountains. Before July 8th, my surgery date, I also plan to do some exploring of Park County, southwest on Highway 285.

My hope for you is that you have a summer filled with ice cream, fireworks, family and travel.