Beltane Beltane Moon
The 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.
