The last day of spring. Solar panels covered. Roof covered. Driveway plowed. 16-24 inches of new snow Friday night through yesterday. Delightful, but hardly springlike. In our spring fantasies, that is. The ones that have tulips and iris and crocus and lilacs and wisteria in them. For a mountain spring though, welcome and not unexpected.
Kate and I are still recovering from our three days of cooking and helping out at Beth Evergreen. Geez. Still, we have the time and the dogs have the patience. This pack anyhow. Vega would not have let us sleep in like Kep, Gertie and Rigel do. She had very clear ideas about when to go to sleep and when to wake up.
We spent most of yesterday admiring the falling snow. A snow globe day, refreshing and beautiful.
9 days ago
Still learning the mountains, how they change. Snow. Light. Rain. Fall. Flowers. Rapidly flowing streams. Clouds. Freeze and thaw. Fire. The animals they nurture move in and around and on them. Night and day. The stars and the moon. The sun as it arcs across the sky. All wonderful, all different.
In one of the sessions with Rabbi Jaffe a member of the board referred to the Beth Evergreen folk as mountain Jews. I liked that. I’m a mountain pagan, a mountain docent, an old man of the mountain. And a fellow traveler with the mountain Jews. Welcome to the journey.
Kate with her graduation certificate for adult Hebrew
Missed yesterday. A very busy two days for both Kate and me. A visiting scholar at Beth Evergreen, Rabbi David Jaffe, came into town on Thursday morning. His first event was a potluck, then a mussar (Jewish ethics) session. Kate and I went early to set up.
Then, that evening Rabbi Jaffe walked the board and other leaders of the synagogue through what he called a soul curriculum for the organization as a whole. I resonated most with this presentation. Kate and I were there because I’m a member of the Adult Education committee. Both of us contributed soups to the soup and salad meal. I made chicken noodle soup and Kate made Vietnamese Pho.
After getting home around 9:30 (our bedtime is 8pm) we got up the next morning and drove into the Denver Performing Arts Center to see grandson Gabe perform in the Denver Public Schools Shakespeare Festival. This ended up taking longer than intended, but we got home in time for a nap before returning to Beth Evergreen yesterday at 4:30. This time we helped set up for Rabbi Jaffe’s lecture, preceded by a congregational meal.
After helping set up tables, arrange flowers, distribute utensils to each place, we attended the James Taylor shabbat. Rabbi Jamie Arnold, Beth Evergreen’s rabbi, is a talented musician who does covers and writes his own music. He often modifies familiar songs with Jewish prayer book language and writes Hebrew verses for them, too.
The meal, catered by Ali Baba, a Golden Lebanese restaurant, and paid for by a generous congregant, fed about 80 people. The tables filled the social hall plus a table set up in the entry way. It was exciting to have that many people together, eating and sharing stories.
Afterward Rabbi Jaffe gave a lecture on mussar. It was more sparsely attended than it might have been due to the heavily falling snow and the predictions-now fulfilled-of around a foot of accumulation.
We again got home around 9:30pm. Late to bed twice in a row. Harder and harder these days.
Today was the People’s Climate March in Denver, which I intended to attend, but the roads going down the hill are icy and snow covered. Climate change is, as I said in an earlier post, once again the focus of my political energy so I’ll only miss the gathering, not the action.
This late spring snow challenged our Rav4 on the way home last night. Hwy. 78, aka Brook Forest Drive/Black Mountain Drive/Shadow Mountain Drive winds up the mountains from Evergreen. It was snowing hard, the roads were not plowed and the shoulders are narrow. No sudden plummets, but sufficient curves and changing elevations to make the drive interesting. Plus, I was ready to be asleep an hour before we left Beth Evergreen.
Today, though, and the next week, too, we have a quieter time. No grandkids this weekend and only one scheduled event in the next week.
The mountain streams we see regularly: Shadow Brook, Maxwell Creek, Bear Creek, Cub Creek have begun, a bit early, I think, their post-ice plummet toward sea level. In May these streams are often boiling, filled with snow melt and pushing the limits of their banks. On any given day driving past them as they speed downhill, down the mountain, they look interesting, worth watching for the tumult; but, in fact, these racing streams are much more than merely interesting.
They are the levelers of mother earth. They take the mighty and strip them down to size, pebble by pebble, rock by rock, chunks of soil by chunks of soil. A defining characteristic of a mountain is its imposing size, its thereness. Mountains dominate their landscape, putting up barriers to human passage that often forced the pioneers of nineteenth century America to go around them rather than over them. They seem, in the moment, eternal.
When living in or visiting a relatively young mountain range like the Rockies, no reasonable person would ever expect them to look any different than they do right now. Colorado is proud of its fourteeners, those summits exceeding 14,000 feet. Mt. Evans, for example has a summit of 14,265 feet. That’s precise. And, would you add it to a website or book or road sign if you expected it to change? No.
Near Bailey, 2015
But it will. One only has to drive east toward the Atlantic to see what’s in store for even Mt. Evans. Look at the Appalachians. Their mountain building episode (orogeny) happened around 480 million years ago. When it was done, the Appalachians stood as tall as the contemporary Rockies. The Rocky Mountain orogeny was a quite recent, geologically speaking, 80 million years ago. They too will wear down.
In the spring we see this process at its most obvious as mountain streams from every summit in every range of the Rocky Mountains, including here in the Front Range, obey gravity and try to find the lowest points available to them. Of course, the streams are not the only process at work. Drive on Highway 285 out of Conifer, as we do often going down or returning from Denver, and you will see large steel mesh hanging over some cliffs. In other places there are bolts driven into the side of rock faces, giving them a slightly Frankensteinian look. In other spots massive retaining walls of concrete encase an especially troublesome chunk of mountain.
These CDOT efforts are not always successful, witness the many Watch for Falling Rocks signs sprinkled throughout Colorado. Freezing and thawing splits the rock faces and they come tumbling down, creating talus or road obstructions. Just this last year, near Glenwood Springs, a large boulder broke loose from its millions of years long position and crashed down on an SUV on I-70, killing the driver. Winds, too, often reaching high double digit speeds, also wear away the rock.
These forces are slow, miniscule in appearance, but massive in their results over long periods of time. When driving by a mountain stream in full force, remember the Appalachians. They’re coming, but not soon, to a Rocky Mountain range near me.
Today I’m making chicken noodle soup and Kate’s making Vietnamese pho. We’ll serve this at a Beth Evergreen leadership dinner for Rabbi David Jaffe, author of Changing the World from the Inside Out, a Jewish Approach to Social Change. Along with our friend Marilyn Saltzman, chair of the adult education committee, who is making a vegetarian squash soup, we’ll provide the soups for a soup and salad meal. I really like this low key involvement. It feels manageable.
Although. I am hoping that Rabbi Jaffe’s time here at Beth Evergreen, tomorrow through Saturday as a visiting scholar, will spur the creation of an activist group focused on some form of response to the Trump/oligarch era. In that instance I’m willing to move into a more upfront role, though I would prefer to remain a follower.
Then, there’s the Sierra Club. I wrote here about my excitement with Organizing for Action, Conifer. That was back in January, I think. Lots of people, lots of energy. Good analysis. I thought, wow. Here’s my group. Then, I never heard from them again, my e-mails went unanswered. Weird, but true. Weird and disqualifying for a group that’s organizing political work.
So I renewed my effort to connect with the Mt. Evans’ local group of the Rocky Mountain Chapter of the Sierra Club. Colorado seems to work more through these regional clusters than as a whole. There are nine of them, covering the entire state. The Mt. Evans’ group includes our part of Jefferson County, Clear Creek County and a northern portion of Park County. It’s titular feature, Mt. Evans, is a fourteener (over fourteen thousand feet high) which has the highest paved road in North America leading to its summit. According to locals here it’s also the weathermaker for our part of Conifer.
I finally made it to a meeting a couple of weeks ago. When I came back, Kate said, “You seem energized.” I did. And, I hadn’t noticed. Something about that small group plugged me back into my reigning political passion of the last six or seven years: climate change. Oh, yeah. With OFA I’d tried to head back toward economic justice, my long standing motivation for political work, dating back to the UAW influences I picked up as a teenager in Alexandria. Guess the universe understood me better than I understood myself. Not much of a surprise there.
My mind began ticking over, running through organizing scenarios, figuring out how we could (note the we) raise the visibility of the Mt. Evans group, gain more members, influence local policy. This is my brain on politics. I might be willing to play a more upfront role here, too, though I want to explore other ways of being helpful first.
Anyhow, between these two, I’m sure I’ll get my political mojo working in some way. And that feels good. Want some soup?
Spring, within 6 days of Beltane. Yesterday. Thunder snow. Took Gertie by surprise. Her eyes flicked from side to side, then she moved under my computer while I worked. And stayed there until we went downstairs. The solar panels have a fluffy white cover and some 16″ of new snow is predicted for the weekend. A poster on a local website said spring up here doesn’t come until Mother’s Day is past and the aspens have leafed out. Mid-to-late May. Seasonal definitions get a workout here in the mountains.
Friend Bill Schmidt knows me well. A while back he noted I’d not yet written anything about tea while here in Colorado. He was right. Two or three years before the move out here I’d somehow gotten to making tea the Chinese way, gong fu cha. This was after years of tea from tea bags and the occasional loose tea steeped in tea infusers.
The impetus may have been my favorite object in the entire collection of the Minneapolis Institute of Art, a Song dynasty tea bowl. I don’t recall now.
Gong fu cha involves various implements and techniques that differ significantly from British/American tea preparation and drinking, but also from the Japanese chanoyu, which is a direct descendant of gong fu cha.
Gong fu cha inspired visiting Japanese monks to introduce tea to their Buddhist compatriots as a way of staying awake during long sessions of meditation. The Japanese tea ceremony grew out of this cultural exchange beginning in the 12th century.
Over a period of years I acquired several yixing teapots, many different teabowls (including one with a leaf embedded), tea scoops and picks for tightly compressed chunks of pu’er tea, a bamboo tea tray and, of course, several varieties of tea.
Zojirushi
The Zojirushi is my favorite tea appliance. The Zojirushi, a Japanese model, boils water to a particular temperature and has a large reservoir so water at the right temperature is always available. Water temperature, the teapot and the quality of the tea itself are the critical variables in gong fu cha.
I considered making tea in the loft a final flourish to the work on it, so I waited until everything else was finished: book cases, art table, things put in their places. Why? I don’t know. Gong fu cha became, in my mind, a symbol that this space was ready for serious work.
Right now I’m drinking Master Han’s loose leaf pu’er from 2000. Very smooth and smoky. I guess that means I’m getting serious about the work.
Bill knew me well. Now I’m truly here. Yixing pot in hand.
Snow and more snow in the forecast. All moisture, good. Good sky, good sky.
The divorce, month 11. The public side of the Jon/Jen divorce started last May. Of course, they’d been getting there for some time before that. Jon is still living with us, still commuting from Shadow Mountain to Aurora, all the way across the Denver metro. The grandkids still come up three weekends a month. Jon and Jen are in the post-final orders time, a time when new norms have to be developed between them. I’d like to say it’s going well, but in fact it’s rocky. From both sides.
The whole matter will change significantly when Jon buys a new home. He’ll move out of here, his stuff will leave our garage. The custody arrangement will change to 50/50 so he will have more parental responsibilities, but also more parental influence on Ruth and Gabe.