AncienTrails

Winter and the Wolf Moon

Sunday (Christmas) gratefuls: The gift of incarnation. Of life. In Ruth. In Kep. In the Lodgepoles. In the Water of Maxwell Creek. In the Stone of Shadow Mountain. In the life sustaining Air. In the powerful Fire. In the rich and ever giving Soil. In my own body. A visit with Ruth. Colorado Springs. Pine Valley Road. North Fork of the South Platte. Woodland Park. The Rescue Mission in the underbelly of Colorado Springs. The rickety houses in the neighborhood around it. All those cracks where the light comes in.

Sparks of Joy and Awe: Ruth

Two decisions. Neither major. Took a while. Should I go the safe route down to Colorado Springs. 470 to I-25. Or take the beautiful Pine Valley Road and risk having my AWD malfunction light come on, return me to front wheel drive? Maybe something worse? Should I take Kep again with me to see Ruth? He seemed to enjoy it. Or should I leave him at home and come back to a puddle or two? Fussed with them for a while. Longer than I needed to. Miss having a second voice here. Kate’s.

Took Pine Valley Road and left Kep in the new dining room with the door closed to the rest of the house. Called Susan Taylor and paid her to come feed him at 2 pm, stay with him for a while to let him in and out a few times. No puddles. A happy Kep when I returned. Yay.

The Pine Valley Road had more up and down, more curves than I remembered. More snow than I expected. Beautiful. Minnesota driving skills made it easy peasy. The North Fork of the South Platte which carves the valley was no longer frozen over, running cold over Stones and around sweeping bends. No fly fisherman like there would have been on a more clement Saturday. Flash flood warning signs near Cheeseman Reservoir, one of the big ones for the city of Denver. Not visible from the switchbacks that take the road past it.

A journey of Mountains and Streams, landscapes with Mountains in the distance. Pikes Peak among them. The Pike National Forest. Campgrounds. Those National Forest Service signs. A series of curves with signs: Motorcyclists exercise extreme caution! Little traffic. Past Decker. Eventually into Woodland Park. A Mountain town ready for the tourist dollar.

Into Colorado Springs the back way past Manitou Springs where the Pikes Peak Cog Railroad chugs up the Mountain. Got a little turned around and found the raggedy edge of the Springs. Shotgun houses with cars and appliances permanently parked around them. A brave Rainbow flag flying graced one. Maybe three blocks. Then a have to left turn which took me past the Rescue Mission as the men, all men as far as I could see, were leaving the building for a day on the streets. Some stopping, conversing. Others trudging on toward their spots or their camps. Have yourself a merry little Christmas. Yeah.

Found Ruth. Juniper building. A phone on the wall. Punched 0 for the receptionist. A voice, very faint. yes. Here to see Ruth Olson. what. Ruth Olson. I know, but she has a pass. oh. Finally two women came. Here for Ruth? She’s very excited. Such a sweet girl. Yes, I agree. A very sweet girl.

She came out wearing one of Kate’s jackets. A thin one. Would later complain of being cold. A big smile and a hug. I’m leaving the building with no techs! She shook her head in amazement. Her first pass since she got there the Friday before Thanksgiving.

In the car we made plans. Limited plans. It was Christmas Eve and all the museums were closed. And there were a lot of museums. The Zoo? Too cold. She opened all her Hanukah presents. Happy with Smart Wool socks, the notebook from Annie, the oil paints from Sarah and Jerry, the chocolate I brought her. A kiddie moment for a too soon mature 16 year old going on 30.

Food? Yeah, I’m hungry. Sushi? Yeah. I know a place. I asked Alexis. We found Uri sushi. In the hood, Alexis said. A pretty upscale hood imho. Wonderful sushi. Alexis was right about that. We had the sashimi combo and three rolls. Ruth ate. Happy to be out of the hospital. In a restaurant on her own with only her grandpop. No staff. No walls. No fences. No two sliding gates to get in and out.

Next out to Anthony’s Nails in the upscale Briargate Mall. You know. Lululemon. Anthropologie. Boutique clothing stores. An Apple store. That sort of thing.

A mani-pedi for both of us. Ruth took control. I’ll talk to them. She told them what I wanted, then went to the three bookshelf sized collection of colors to choose a gel for her toes and one for her fingers. A pinkish silver and a sparkly black. A petite Vietnamese woman with an elf hat on came to me and we walked back to the pedicure chairs.

If you’ve never done this, pedicure chairs are something. Many have massage rollers in the chairback. Mine did not. They do have a throne like feel. The person receiving the pedicure sits high up above the person working on their feet. Somewhat Jesus like it just occurred to me. There’s a small plastic lined bathtub for your feet into which hot to warm water pours.

My elf hatted lady opened her rolling container of tools, taking out nail clippers. Ruth sat beside me. This place was fancy. Two rows of pedicure chairs the length of the store with the nail stands in the middle. A water feature in the back. White columns separating the ranks of six pedicure chairs from each other. A bar up front with mineral water, a water tank filled with lemons and apple slices. Even liquor.

I had on a Vermont Flannel shirt and jeans. Ruth had on Kate’s old jacket and black sweat pants. We were not dressed for the occasion. Made it a bit more fun.

We continued our conversation begun over sushi while the two women cut our nails, pushed back the cuticles, trimmed and massaged our feet. Ruth was more open and more clear than she had been. Much less defensive. We spoke about her Dad, family counseling sessions. Her visits to equine therapy and the therapy dogs. The other folks in her building. Their antics.

The next stop was to be a bookstore, but Ruth remembered the Garden of the Gods. We drove there. I’ve never been. We didn’t get out. Again, too cold and grandpop was getting tired. Shards of red rock let alone, spread out from each other. Tall and majestic. Balancing rock which Ruth remembered climbing as a little girl.

The road through Garden of the Gods ends near Manitou Springs, another Mountain town ready for the tourist dollar. We decided to drive through it since Ruth had never seen it. I pointed out a person in costume. That’s not just a costume, grandpop. That’s a furry. Oh. I’m gonna tell everybody when I get back that I saw a furry. Well, we all have our ways to hide.

We did find the bookstore. Not the one Ruth wanted, but the Springs branch of Tattered Covers, the most well known Denver bookstore. We wandered through it pointing at books we’d read. Have you read this? No. Oh, this is wonderful. Yes, I liked it too.

At that point Ruth had worn out and I was ready to head home. I signed her back in at 6 pm, left the sliding wire gates behind me and drove back to Shadow Mountain and Kep.