Exhaustion

Beltane                                                                        Beltane Moon

N.B. This is a debbie downer post but I wanted to include it for completeness. Skip it unless you want to hear a modest tale of not so much, but nonetheless real, woe.

Mt. Falcon
Mt. Falcon

I’ve left out some struggle over the last few days. The Colorado Native Plant class went up a steep incline, not in learning curve, but in altitude. It found me breathing hard. Which flummoxed me a bit since I live at 8,800 feet and this was 5,800. The effort required left me exhausted after the 4-hour class.

But I wanted hiking boots, so I drove into the Denver REI and began another chapter in buying footwear with a male size 7 foot. It’s hard to be body positive about your feet when nobody carries your size. Two hours of boot trying later a pair of Vasque 8’s seemed almost right. Even tireder then, I bought them. We’ll see if they work. I imagine with some custom orthotics they will.

view from REI toward downtown Denver Friday, May 16, 2015
view from REI toward downtown Denver Friday, May 16, 2015

By the time I got home late that afternoon, I had no reserve left. Granted, this is the day after the biopsy. Perhaps not the best time for a physical marathon.  Still, the class was one of only three and it was the first day of the annual sale at REI, everything 20% off. 7s are hard to find under the best conditions and a picked over store would not be the best.

I made my focus for yesterday rest and recreation. Which meant TV. I watched a Woody Allen comedy and caught up with a series or two on Hulu. Still exhausted at the end of the day.

Got up this morning.  Still tired. Went back to bed and slept until 9:30. Feeling better now, around 11:00.

The End of the Beginning

Beltane                                                                       Beltane Moon

9538 Black Mountain DriveThe end of the beginning. When June 1st slips into its calendar slot, many things we set in motion a year ago will have come to a conclusion. On May 26th the Andover house closes. Last October 31st we closed on Black Mountain Drive. We packed. We moved. We’ve unpacked. A lot, but not all: art and the garage remain. A way of being grandpop and grandma in Colorado has emerged, not solid, but solidifying. The dogs and our creative lives have been shifted to new spaces, happily.

We live in the mountains, no longer on the plains and flatlands of the glaciated Midwest. The West and its arid lands, the Rocky Mountains are our home.

The above speaks only to transition, not to the settling in process I call becoming native to this place. A year ago when we decided to move I thought the move would take two years. It has taken one.

Becoming native to this place will take years, if not the rest of our lives.  Miles of road must be driven; hours with family must pass; visits to parts now unknown must take place; plants must grow. Mountain paths hiked. History learned. A new way absorbed and incorporated. I mean that last literally, become corporeal, our bodies must become of this place.