• Category Archives The West
  • Deep in Memory

    Fall                                                                                                  Closing Moon

    On the ladder taking down the angelic weather vane I noticed the poplar, ironwood, elm and oak still gave some color to our woods. Bare branches mostly, but a few lingering leaves held on. I’ve found myself wistful this fall, realizing that with this move to the arid west, and reinforcing that, a move to 8,800 feet, we’re going to an alpine eco-system from an oak savannah. All my life (with the exception of 1.5 years in Oklahoma at the very beginning) I’ve lived in the remnants of the big woods or near the boreal forest. You can say I’m a mammal adapted to the ways of deciduous forests and their near cousin the northern forests.

    The blue skies of autumn with the cirrus clouds providing white slashes for expression seem wedded, to me, to the falling of birch leaves and maple leaves, oaks and elms, ironwood and black locust. The cooler winds that these skies accompany smell of humus, fresh water and carry just a hint of the polar ice caps. This is what fall is, deep into my memory, deep into the formation of my self.

    Last week at Black Mountain Drive I stood on pine needles, duff and granite, saw a few small alpine plants, some moss and had seen on the drive up there a few ash leaves, golden, on the browning grasses. The blue skies there have the cirrus high above them, but the falling leaves are golden, ash being by far the dominate deciduous tree in the mountains and up at 8800 feet far behind the conifers.

    Folks I know often name fall as their favorite season here. I know it’s mine. Wonder what it will be out West? Unknown for now.

     


  • On where the midwest ends

    Fall                                                                                        Falling Leaves Moon

     

    There is no doubt that the 100th meridian has geographic, population and climate significance. But, for this Midwesterner, these real distinctions, though remarkable certainly, don’t truly spell the boundary for the Midwest. No, for me, the Midwest stops at the Front Range, that wall, that barrier of mountains that sit astride the 40th latitude. Here the rural heartland (and its own emigrants) and immigrants from various parts of Europe washed up against the intractability of the West

    The 100th parallel runs through it: Cozad, Nebraska. The 100th meridian is significant in the U.S. for two quite distinct reasons. The first is that it marks the line beyond which land receives less than 20 inches of rain per year. On the other side of the 100th, in the rich agricultural heartland, lie the areas in the U.S. with abundant rainfall.

    The second and related reason the 100th parallel is significant concerns U.S. population density. Many areas of the West fall into the lowest population density category: 2.5 people per square mile. As this website points out: “Low precipitation, poor soils, and rugged or mountainous terrain have discouraged more people from settling in these areas.”

    Drive or fly across the 900 miles from Andover to Conifer, Colorado and these distinctions become self-evident. Over the weekend, as I flew back and forth the ground beneath me grew browner as we went west. Browner or shades of tan or gray. Also, the number of circles, like the foot-prints of circular footed aliens, increased. In one area I counted over 100 contiguous irrigation circles. They reflect the unyielding climatology revealed by the map above and the inevitable water apocalypse that awaits the last drop of the last aquifer that makes up the vast Ogallala.

    Here is the population map. As you drive toward Colorado, the green farms of southern Minnesota, northern Iowa and eastern Nebraska give way to feedlots, cattle ranches and irrigated fields. So, in these two ways, the Midwest, it could be said, ends at the 100th parallel and the West begins.

    At the Front Range the just awakening colonization of large arid West collided with its native inhabitants; then, propelled by rail and mining interests, crashed over the mountains themselves. Ranches large enough to sustain the cattle business, mines sunk deep into the living rock, railroads powerful enough to conquer the elevations and snow created the raw energy, but the lifeways of the Midwest, those who would grow things, start cities, industry, build schools, those lifeways came along past the 100th parallel.

    Though the Midwest may begin to fade past Cozad, Nebraska as the high plains become drier, its cultural influence remains strong in Colorado, at least through Denver and its metropolitan area as well as the I-25 corridor of Colorado Springs, Longmont, Greeley, and Ft. Collins. So it could be claimed, and I would do it, that the culture of Colorado is neither Western nor Midwestern, but a hybrid. Yes, the Great Western Stockshow has rodeos and many horse related exhibits, but it also has milk cows and chickens, rabbits and pigs. Yes, Denver has a blue mustang with its front legs raised outside its airport, but it also has bicycle paths, digerati, industry and a Federal mint.

    At least that’s how I see it right now, from the Midwest.


  • Chain Saws

    Fall                                                                                          Falling Leaves Moon

    And the sound of chain saws was heard on the land. The landscaping work has begun. A bobcat, pulled by a truck filled with mulch sits just ahead of a white pick-up with an enclosed trailer. The dogs announce, over and over again, that there are strangers here. Strangers here. Strangers here.

    The steady rate of work toward Colorado goes on. We’ve been at this now since late April. It can feel like we’ve always been moving. Always will be moving. But an end exists and it’s much closer now than it was when we first decided to give the whole process two years. As we grabbed hold of this project, various aspects of it have conspired to make moving early next year the best plan.

    Though not eager to leave Minnesota, we are eager to start establishing a new life in the mountains. We’ve lived here over well over 40 years, both of us, and our Western life will take time to flourish, just as this one did.

    We will have the grandkids, Jon and Jen, and Barb (Tennessee grandma) to help us ease in. Kate says there’s a top 10 quilt shop (in the U.S.) within 40 miles of Idaho Springs so that will give her a place to make new friends. The Sierra Club and other environmental advocacy groups are strong in Colorado, as are certain brands of progressive politics, so I’ll have some places to meet new people, too.

    But none of this until after the landscaping is done.

     


  • Oh, Yeah, Can You See

    Fall                                                                                              Falling Leaves Moon

    The temperature, the political temperature, of Colorado can be taken in the gubernatorial race between Democrat John Hickenlooper and conservative Republican Bob Beauprez, scrambling over who will control fracking in western Colorado counties, but my favorite is Jefferson County high school students protesting against a conservative school board.

    Here’s a couple of paragraphs from the Denver Post that show what the students are mad about. Denver Post, 9/25/2014

    The curriculum proposal, crafted by board member Julie Williams, calls for a nine-member panel to “review curricular choices for conformity to JeffCo academic standards, accuracy and omissions,” and present information accurately and objectively.

    Williams’ proposal calls for instructional material presenting “positive aspects” of U.S. heritage that “promote citizenship, patriotism, essentials and benefits of the free enterprise system, respect for authority and respect for individual rights.”

    Materials should not, it says, “encourage or condone civil disorder, social strife or disregard of the law.””

    Interesting definition of accuracy and objectivity.

    Jefferson County is a western suburban county that runs from near Boulder in the north through western, affluent suburbs of Denver to an area not far north of Colorado Springs.

    Jefferson County’s electorate is Colorado in miniature, with roughly equal parts registered Democrats, Republicans and unaffiliated voters.  The geography ranges from close-in suburbs with many students poor enough to qualify for discounted lunches to wealthier areas and mountain towns. Jefferson County is more than 90 percent white but has a growing Hispanic population.” Denver Post, 9/28/2014

    I love it that these student have taken the essence of U.S. outsider politics like civil disorder and social strife, utilizing the mildest of these strategies, peaceful protest, and flung it back in the face of a school board attempting to rewrite history. My kinda people.

    Jefferson County borders both Clear Creek County and Boulder County. We’ll almost surely land in one of those or even Jefferson County itself. I’ll unpack ready to help.


  • Widdershins

    Lughnasa                                                                       College Moon

    We’ve cleared out the three sheds. This morning the dog barrier on the orchard fence (which never worked) came down, the hardware going in a plastic bucket. The new place will have fence, too. All of the electric fence parts, from the charger to the plastic clips for the fence line and the electrified rope will go with us, too. Bears, mountain lions, mule deer, elk to keep out and dogs to keep in.

    It feels like we’re walking widdershins around our property, unwinding twenty years of presence, trying to neutralize the most intimate space of all, home. Doing this now, in the fall when the air is cooler, makes it all seem appropriate. The growing season has begun to walk widdershins around the plants, seeing them revert to their ground level selves or to bare their branches, fatten up roots and otherwise end the time of producing.

    We are undoing the enchantment we have created here. This place has become, through vigorous effort and the work of many, a place where we could enjoy life. It has become our home. Fires in the firepit, vegetables in the raised beds, apples and cherries and pears in the orchard, meals on the brick patio or out on the deck. Years of dogs creating paths in the woods and in our hearts. Now this enchantment has to be undone and stored for use in another location.

    We will, I have no doubt, do the same in Colorado. It will be a different same of course, the paradox of home being where the heart is, not one physical place. We will have a smaller garden, but we will have one. We will still need to contain dogs. Our new home will be xeriscaped as soon as possible, so flowers, unless native, will not be part of it. We will still need a study and workout room for me, a sewing room with space for the long arm quilter for Kate. And in creating these spaces and functions we will become one with a new place. A new spell will be cast, one with Western themes instead of Northern.

     


  • A Milestone

    Lughnasa                                                                                College Moon

    Well. A milestone. Every bookshelf except the one beside my computer, stacked with books I use frequently, has been cleared, sorted and boxed. I thought I would be done in late August, early September works, too.

    (New Harmony as conceived by Robert Dale Own in 1833)

    As I passed these last books from shelf to box, new arrangements for them cropped up, new reading projects and writing projects, too. I have, for example, a collection of historical documents about New Harmony, Indiana. They are records of the Harmonist era 1814-1824 and documents from the Robert Owens era soon after that. There are, too, maps, Indiana Historical Society monographs, photographs and notes of my own journeys there.

    (stone labyrinth in current day New Harmony)

    New Harmony features in my novel, The Last Druid, and continues to interest me, both as the site of two utopian communities, one very successful, the other a successful failure and as a present day historical site with an emphasis on spirituality. Reading through those would definitely spark something.

    There are, too, a collection of books, stacked up on each other, concerning the west and Colorado. These are the first tools I’ll use to get up to speed on our new home and the historical context that made it what it is now.

    Now I move to file sorting, magazine culling. After that, objet d’arts.


  • At the Fair

    Lughnasa                                                                            College Moon

    This guy was in line ahead of me for a discounted senior ticket:

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    Samsara

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    A howl from the West. Our future.

     

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    More of samsara.

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    Dulling the pain of samsara.

     

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    fiddledIMAG0601Kate chooses her way.

    fiddledIMAG0603Leaving the earth behind

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    Mortals

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    What we become if we remain at the State Fair too long.

     

     

     

     

     

     

     

     

    This gallery contains 17 photographs in all as   photograph etc.