Spring Mountain Spring Moon
Quick note to say I’ve moved past the mood of the last post. Business meeting this morning with Kate at the Wildflower. We shared some of our mutual vulnerabilities: mortality, worthiness, relationships with kids and grandkids. In that unusual alchemy of love vulnerabilities shared become a source of strength and self-forgiveness. 25 years now of letting each other in, hearing and the seeing each other, loving each other. A gift beyond measure.
Imbolc Black Mountain Moon
N.B. The “snakes” that Patrick ran out of Ireland were the Druids, priests of the Auld Celtic faith, so I’m celebrating Celtic heritage today, not Patrick. Though he did have the good sense, when returning to Rome after his missionary work in Ireland, to take several Irish Wolfhounds with him.
We’re getting ready for our second party in two months. That’s approximately two more than we hosted all last year. Today our neighbors Eduardo and Holly, Ann Beck (real estate agent) and Jon, Jen, Ruth and Gabe will eat corned beef, cabbage and other fixings with us.
This is a holiday I have celebrated at Frank (the Mic) Broderick’s for many years. It’s a Woolly traditional meal and the one tomorrow night will be the first one I’ve missed in a long time. Having a Celtic meal of our own might be the start of a new, Colorado tradition for us.
Just got done mopping the floor, after vacuuming. I can do this now with minimal huffing and puffing though there’s still a ways to go on being fully acclimatized. Kate’s got corned beef in the slow cooker, cabbage and potatoes ready to boil and a mango popover for dessert. I made an Irish soda bread yesterday that looks pretty good.
In a nod to the digital age I just retrieved my Pandora password from my password program on this computer. That way, I can go downstairs, enter it on our TV! (Roku) and provide some holiday appropriate music.
69 degrees here in Conifer, a sunny bright day for St. Patrick’s. Strange. And, when I just checked, I’m very surprised to see that in Andover it will be 71 today. Stranger yet.
Imbolc Black Mountain Moon
Drove down Shadow Mountain on Brook Forest Drive. We wondered what it will look like with the snow melted, gone. The mountain scenes change much more often than I would have thought with snow, ice, hoar frost, melting, fog, early morning mists and evening. We have three quarters of a year yet, the Great Wheel yet to turn through spring, summer and fall. There will be green, flowers, dry dusty days with fear of fire and times of aspened yellow.
On to the Wildflower Cafe where we learned that Christa, the tall blond who now recognizes us and brings us coffee right away (we’re their first Saturday morning customers), worked as a bartender at Lord Fletchers for a couple of years while her sister lived in Waconia. The sister moved to Colorado and so did Christa. Minnesota connections abound here: the park ranger for the Pike National Forest from Hastings, a neighbor here from the ‘burbs of Minneapolis. Others whose particulars I don’t recall.
Back up Brook Forest Drive in the oncoming morning, a fierce sun appearing every so often through a notch in a mountain or a small valley, then back into the shade, driving through the Arapaho National Forest.
Imbolc Black Mountain Moon
Selling the house in Andover. We’ve put our best effort into this sale and so far? No offers. Lots of lookers, but no buyers. It’s been four months since we closed on Black Mountain Drive which means for those four months and now a fifth, March, we’ve been paying two mortgage payments. Warren and Sheryl did it for several years and we can sustain it, but we don’t want to.
The longer it lingers, since it has a certain amount of our assets tied up, the leaner and tighter our budget becomes. Not unexpected, but not pleasant either.
There was risk in buying here before we sold the Minnesota house, but it was one we took with our eyes open. I’m glad we made the choice. This house fits us so well. Kate did a great job in finding it. Moving first simplified, by a lot, the whole process of exiting 153rd Ave. NW. And, we got to start our new life here in Colorado.
An interstate move is expensive under any circumstances, especially when you have 20 years of belongings to move. Though we reduced by about a third, we still had a lot to move. The final tally, of course, is not in yet, but even when we add it all up, it will have been worth it.
Why? This was the time to move in terms of our health. We’re still healthy enough to establish a new life. And, moving to Colorado allowed us to accomplish two goals with one move. The first, being closer to the grandkids, was both about seeing them more often and their ages, Ruth, 8, and Gabe, 6. As with our health, this was the time to move to be part of their lives while they still tune into grandparents.
The second goal we accomplished was to move into a place of great natural beauty with space for our four dogs and our mutual creative work. Living in the Front Range of the Rocky Mountains means we have a home where the eco-systems vary by altitude and the altitude varies a lot. It also means spectacular vistas, interesting weather and wildlife.
So, we chose and now we live with the choice. Happily.
Imbolc Black Mountain Moon
As we drive back from our 25th anniversary dinner at the Buckhorn Exchange, the stars increase in number as the Front Range enfolds us, shields us from the Denver light pollution. “I still can’t believe I prefer living out here,” I said, “but 20 years changed me.” That was 20 years in Andover, Minnesota.
(Our table was just under this mountain lion.)
“We’re both introverts,” Kate said,”we prefer the quiet, the alone.”
Yes. “But,” she said, “we can always drive in. If we were in the city, we would have trouble being alone.” Yes.
So we live with the stars, Black Mountain and the lodgepole pine.
The Buckhorn Exchange, at 1000 Osage Street, holds Denver’s liquor license #1. It was founded in 1893 and now bills itself as a museum of the Old West. The number of mounted trophy heads are enough to keep one man working full time dusting and vacuuming. (I asked.) There are old leather chaps on the walls, an antique pill roller, countless photographs and magazine covers mounted on the walls. It’s on the National Registry of Historic Places.
(this was the view from our table.)
We were, originally, going to have our 25th anniversary meal at Mama’s Fish House on Maui, but we bought this house in Colorado instead. The Buckhorn Exchange is to Denver as Mama’s is to Maui.
I had a bone in bison rib eye, Kate had elk and bison. As a starter, I had Rocky Mountain Oysters. They taste like alligator. Which I could have had, Alligator Tail, center cut.
A memorable evening, a fitting 25th.
Imbolc Black Mountain Moon
A sunny, 55 degree Friday here on Shadow Mountain. It has knocked on that door behind which hides spring longing. One thing I look forward to is a mountain spring, but I know it will come when it comes. Still, these day make me imagine what our neighborhood, our drive, our mountain will look like without snow cover, with the aspens leafed out.
Today I went back into Ovid for the time in several months, delighted to see that my skill level has picked up considerably. I’m still far from facile, but I can see the plateau before it from where I stand now.
Then this afternoon I wrote another 1,500 words on Superior Wolf. This version, this is my fourth or fifth restart, going back to 2002, seems to have the push necessary to get to the end.
Kate’s gone into Denver to celebrate Purim* at Temple Micah. She made hamentashen, the triangular goodies associated with this holiday.
*The festival of Purim is celebrated every year on the 14th of the Hebrew month of Adar (late winter/early spring). It commemorates the salvation of the Jewish people in ancient Persia from Haman’s plot “to destroy, kill and annihilate all the Jews, young and old, infants and women, in a single day.”
Imbolc Black Mountain Moon
When I married my Norwegian bride back in 1990 (25 years this March 10th), I did not fully appreciate how different our body thermostats were. I’ve come to enjoy cooler air around me, wearing sweaters and sweatshirts, sometimes a layer on top of that, feeling like a pensioner in an English apartment with a coin-operated heater.
We sleep in the equivalent of a cold dorm, heat turned off in the room and the window open during the winter. I like this, too, except. Except when my blankets became inadequate. Then I would have a hard time getting warm enough to go to sleep. Frustrating when you’re tired.
Yes, I ordered an electric blanket. Why I didn’t do this long ago is a mystery. I think I just wanted to use what we had available. Now, going to sleep is blissful. Warm body, cold head. Just right.
Imbolc Black Mountain Moon
With the books in organized clumps, art still in boxes, files in the horizontal file, journals, dvds and novel notes stacked together in banker’s boxes, and the exercise area functional I’ve reached a stasis in terms of organizing the loft. Kate got back to sewing yesterday, making a table runner from a pattern both she and Annie bought this last week. Her sewing area has also begun to take shape with her table, cutting surfaces, stash, sewing machine and Matilda (the dress mannequin) in usable, if not permanent places.
We await now the new Stickley table we purchased for downstairs, which will make that space more flexible when entertaining or during family game nights. The reading room, the bedroom, the living room and the kitchen all have usable, if not permanent configurations. The garage and the homeoffice remain hangouts for the cardboard set, art in the latter and mostly gardening/beekeeping/tools in the former.
Over the next few weeks Jon will install built-in bookshelves up here, attach my pull-up bar and help us 
hang art in the house. He’ll also develop plans for linking the house and the garage, a current problem spot for us. Why? There’s no straight line into the house from the garage and no path that can be cleared. We have to move through the snow to get to the truck or upstairs to the loft. Not a big deal, but one that could be better.
Kate went in yesterday and had a day as grandma, doubled with Barb’s presence. They were at Barb’s apartment with Gabe and Ruth who were out of school for teacher’s conferences. In one of those mysterious moments we humans have from time to time, Kate went from Minnesota grandma to Conifer grandma, a change that began at the birthday cum house warming celebration on Saturday. She’s now fully here (as I sense it) and in the life she dreamed about as we prepared for and executed the move.
There’s a bit further for me to go. I got a very sweet book from Ruth as a birthday present, a compilation of 
poems and images about Grandpop plus comments from her. I feel completely here as Grandpop and did perhaps sooner than Kate, but the Self that has begun to grow here, a Colorado, Western Self has barely emerged. In part I need to get my old rhythms back, the ones I mentioned yesterday: Latin, writing, art history, exercise, sheepshead, perhaps some political work. But, too, I need new rhythms: exploring Colorado and the near West with Kate, hiking and snow-shoeing in the mountains, learning the history and the geology and the biology of the land we now call home. It will be the dialectic between the old, stable patterns and ones possible only because we live here that will finally get me all the way here. For now, I’m neither fully here nor fully gone from Minnesota. Liminal. Again, still.
Imbolc Settling Moon II
Screeching up to 68, flames coming out of the brakes. It’s been a long, strange trip so far and I’ll be happy with whatever else comes along. Forgot, too, that Ancientrails turned 10 last week. Thank you, Bangkok. The achilles rupture there in 2004 gave me two months off my feet. On March 10th Kate and I hit 25 years. 25 is the new 50 as far as wedding anniversaries go.
So it’s a season that celebrates persistence, good luck, love, typing, unexpected consequences. Just right for me.
At two years from the Jewish three score and 10 life has given me a chance to begin much anew. Now a mountain man and a westerner and a Coloradan living in an arid climate the next period will have (has had) many opportunities for adventure.
Last Sunday Ruth was up here while Jon did some handyman work for us. I mentioned the Colorado Geology Museum to her. She said, “That can be our next museum.” Seeing the adventure through the eyes of a child makes it several notches more special.
Winter Settling Moon II
After a bitter and snowy introduction to Colorado, followed by a milder, but still snowy time, we’ve experienced mild temperatures and dry weather. This doesn’t look likely to change soon either. Not only do the western slope snows drive the ski and snowboard resorts, the total snowfall has a huge impact on that most Western of issues: water. Dry winter weather makes people twitchy here, even though ski resorts report good numbers so far.
Six weeks in the settling in part of our home work has advanced a good bit. Kate’s sewing area has begun to take shape and is free of cardboard for the most part. The reading room/dining room area is free of cardboard, too, as are the living room and master bedroom. The garage still has most of its contents in boxes, a task we’re saving until more clement weather.
My loft only has DVD’s in boxes and boxes that were misplaced during the move and now need to migrate downstairs. Since Jon and I discussed the built-in bookshelves, I’ve shifted my work with the books from shelving them in anticipation of a permanent location to clumping them on shelves according to content. This will allow me access to the books by category, while making it much easier to move them to make way for carpentry.
When packing, I had to pack the books by size, now they have to be sorted back into meaningful agglomerations. That’s taking a while, as you might expect.
We’ve already come to love our mountain home, neighborhood and area. It’s a unique area with a distinct sense of place. Our family life here has begun slowly, but we’re here now. Slow is good.