Running Creeks Moon

Beltane                                                                         New (Running Creeks) Moon

Upper Maxwell Falls May, 2015
Upper Maxwell Falls May, 2015

Shadow Brook, Forest Brook, Maxwell Creek, Deer Creek, the mountains streams I see regularly, are full. The snow melt obeys the law of gravity, following the twists in spacetime toward lower points. They boil at rock beds and turns, often muddy water capped with white foam.

With all the recent snow fields have begun to green and our aspens have leaf buds. The lodgepoles look healthy. That 10 inch snow last weekend has already melted and the snow drifts even in our north facing back yard have begun to diminish. Time to get back to I’m a lumberjack, yes I am.

Wildlife is more in evidence, too. On the day of Vega’s death Kate saw a red fox on the roadside, as if Vega’s spirit were saying the good-bye we didn’t get in person. We’ve several small herds of mule deer and Kate saw four elk does yesterday. Pinecam.com, source for all things local, has had mountain lion photos and reports of hungry bears causing mischief. The Denver Post reported a bear rummaging through a man’s refrigerator in his second floor apartment.

The bicyclists also return with the clearing roads, joggers, too. Crankshafts of motorcyclists also begin to appear. And that seasonal bird, the tourist, begins to clog highway 285, racing around curves and down the 7% inclines. There are grumbles on Pinecam.com. Here in Conifer 285 is still four lane, but south (really west) of us about seven or eight miles it goes down to two lanes. That’s the direction the tourists head and it makes for dangerous driving in the summer months.

So a seasonal change is upon us, though a very different one from the flowering, leafing, sprouting spring of Andover.

 

Vega.

Beltane                                                  Wedding Moon

dogfamilyVega’s ashes have come in. The sadness returned with this news. Thinking last night about death. Death is long, permanent, invisible, dark. Life is short, transient, all too visible, filled with light. Life is the flutter of one dragonfly wing, snow slipping from a pine branch, a meteor. Death is ordinary; life is extraordinary.

(Vega, on the left, still at the breeders. Her father, Guinness, is the gray wolfhound. All of her sibs.)

Grief, Proust said, gives power to the mind. Not sure what he meant by that, but there is a definite sense of emotional and intellectual heavy lifting around a death. We have no choice but to make sense of a world now less populated. One we loved has slipped beyond the reach of our senses.

How will we live now? That question confronts every individual, every family, every dog pack visited by death. Here we see Rigel’s tail beginning to thump more often and more loudly. We see her taking over the couch. Her bark is deeper, more considered.

Vega does, as Seoah said, live on in our hearts. Funny, opinionated, dominant without ruling, loving, sweet. That was Vega. From the very beginning. Still.

Out There

Beltane                                                     Wedding Moon

Ruth and I went to the Fiske Planetarium in Boulder on Saturday night for a program on black holes. Ruth had never been to a planetarium. The lights went down and the night sky appeared on the dome above us. The southern night sky. So, right away the wonder of the star machine. Then, the night sky over Boulder with the constellations. The astronomer talked about their correlation to the ancients who relied on them for agricultural purposes. It is reportedly spring. Somewhere.

Ruth watched and listened carefully. The short film on black holes was not easy, covering the birth of black holes, their peculiar physics and their role in the cosmos. After it was over, the astronomer walked us through some of the recent findings related to black holes, the most notable being the discovery of gravity waves at the LIGO observatory. The relation to black holes is that the gravity pulse detected at LIGO began in a black hole.

sloan image

It’s been a while since I immersed myself in matters astronomical. My fine grained understanding of the evening was not great. The hey now moment came at the end when the astronomer pulled the dome’s display further and further out until the entire Sloan Survey covered only the center of the dome.

The rest of the dome then represented the edge of the knowable universe. Out there the astronomer showed what he called the light wall, a here cooler, there warmer barrier of early light, earliest light, really. This light wall, a new idea to me, represented, he said, the exterior wall of the black hole within which our whole universe lives! Wow. Immediately sped past my understanding. Just did a little quick research on this and found nothing. Could be my hearing. Yet another sensory limitation when it comes to learning about the universe.

On the way out Ruth said she was expecting something like that at the end. Why? Because in the film they had presented black holes as violent, destructive forces, so in the end they’d need to show their good side. Not a scientific conclusion, but still a damned good one. I missed the setup and it was there. Ruth is 10.

Beltane, 2016

Beltane                                                 Wedding Moon

This is the first day of the growing season, the time when the old Celtic calendar turned over from Samhain, or Summer’s End, to Beltane, the day that marks the end of the fallow time. At some point, too, the Celts began to observe the solar holidays, solstices and equinoxes. Their distinctive holidays fall between these 4 solar events and hence are known as cross quarter days. It was only later in the evolution of the Celtic calendar that two other cross quarter holidays, Imbolc on February 1st and Lughnasa on August 1st were added.

That we’re not living in Ireland is apparent today since we’ve just received around 10 inches or so of new snow. No start of the growing season on Shadow Mountain. We’re both far away from the oceans, Ireland has a maritime climate, and high above it’s mostly sea level altitude.

But, close enough. Soon the weather here will slip out of the fallow season’s cold and snow into the growing season’s warmth. Sort of. At altitude the nights are never as warm and the temperature averages not as high as they are at sea level. Too, here in the West the precipitation comes largely in the fallow time. That means the growing season here on Shadow mountain is both shorter and cooler as well as drier. That defines the montane ecosystem in which we live.

The market week and celebrations of Beltane included the Maypole, fire jumping (for fertility), driving cattle between two bonfires for health, and those who wanted making love in the fields to draw the fertility of the fields into themselves and add their own to the fields in return. It was known then that human life and the life of the fields and forests were one. This knowledge remains essential to the health of our species and is one reason a pagan outlook continues to nourish me.

The fallow time is a long time of inwardness, six months or so. If they’re perennials, plants die back above ground and focus on storage of energy in their root system. They also interact vigorously with the soil around them. The human spirit goes inward, too, evidenced in the felt need for the holidays of light that fill up the two months plus of holiseason. In that time we humans interact with our roots, family and friends and tradition, nourishing them and being nourished by them.

So, when the lambs are in the belly at Imbolc (in the belly), the ewes freshen and milk becomes available. Memories of lambs frolicing in the spring return. By Beltane the lambs have strengthened and the fields are ready for planting. In old Ireland, that is. Those in the farther northern and southern latitudes and in high altitudes can appreciate the sunburst of life without snow and cold, of life with the promise of fresh vegetables, grain crops, fattened animals, of relaxing outside on a warm evening.

This is a time to celebrate. Dig deep into your fallow time ruminations, seek out what needs the sun to flourish. Make sure it’s planted in the right soil and gets the nourishment it needs, then grab your loved ones and dance, dance, dance. (or, if you’re more Celtic and less northern European, reverse the order.)

 

 

Too Much Salt?

Spring                                                  Wedding Moon

Ruthandgabeuppermax300The snow has been less than predicted, a good thing. Still, it’s the wet, heavy, slushy stuff that makes snowblowers clog up.

Jon, Ruth and Gabe are coming up tonight. Jon and Ruth will go skiing tomorrow and Gabe will stay with us. Ruth and I plan to take in a Fiske Planetarium (Boulder) show on black holes this evening. Kate’s making Mississippi Pot Roast. This is the sort of thing that, no matter how much we might have wanted to do it, was impossible when we lived in Minnesota.

Got rid of 4 bookcases bought long ago at Dayton’s warehouse in Minneapolis. They’d seen me through the house on Edgcumbe and in Andover. Most of these got sold off in Minnesota, but the remaining four held some books while the built-ins were under construction. That opens up space in the garage. It’s a priority as soon as the weather warms up. Would’ve been last year if it hadn’t been cancer season over the summer.

saltOK. I have a confession to make. I’ve been putting too much salt on my food for years. Big surprise, I’m sure, to all of you who have witnessed it. In fact, I was following an approach suggested by my internist, Charlie Petersen. His opinion was that once you passed a point where a problem, blood pressure in this instance, required treatment, you didn’t need to modify your behavior if the treatment worked. And it did. For many years. But, not now.

Over the course of the trip to Asia I stopped adding salt to my food. My blood pressure, which had been labile before the trip, suddenly fell into line. Damn it. Empiricism is such a bitch. And, not so small side benefit. It’s easier to sleep through the night since my fluid retention has significantly decreased.

Yamantaka 13 Deitykat1

There is no doubt that I have a self-destructive homunculus in residence. Smoking and drinking took me several unpleasant years to put into the past. Just why this little guy is so interested in my demise, I don’t know. Maybe he’s the death wish that Freud believed we all have. He doesn’t give up. If I start one of these activities again, I quickly go back to the maximum use. I learned this while quitting smoking, several times.

It’s tough getting him to just sit still. You would think that, having visited Yamantaka (the slayer of death) many times over the years, he would calm down. Yamantaka is the Tibetan God of death itself. To worship him one thing you can do is look your own death straight in the face, imagine yourself dead, meditate on your own corpse. In this way Yamantaka helps us to accept death for what it is, a natural and not to be feared part of human existence.

Seems like that would get this homunculus to quiet down. Oh, it’s going to happen anyway and it’s ok, so why do I have to speed things up? But, no. Doesn’t appear to work that way.

Why grief?

Spring                                                         Wedding Moon

As you might expect, I’ve been thinking about death, about grief in the wake of Vega’s sudden death. In particular I’ve been wondering how I can have a grasp on my own death, no fear, but be so distressed at Vega’s.

Then, it occurred to me. In movie thrillers the torturers often open their usually neated packet of tools: knives, pliers, dental picks, pieces of bamboo with a flourish. Or, as in the Marathon Man, the dentist goes to work on you without anesthetic.  In many cases the torturee summons up inhuman courage or an anti-heroic defiance.

When the usual infliction of pain or disorientation fails, or when the torturer is portrayed as unusually sadistic, friends or colleagues or family members of the torturee are led into the room. Then the torturer goes to work on them. Seems effective in the movies I’ve seen.

Grief, at least in part, is because the universe is such a torturer. Not with malice, of course, but certainly with a sort of intention. Life has an endpoint and entropy sees that it arrives. So, it’s possible to have the notion of your own death sorted out while responding with agony to the grim torture of having your friends removed from the room .

Foggy

Spring                                                          Wedding Moon

loft2Clouds at 8,800 feet. Or, as some say, fog. Cold and clammy outside this am.

I’ve gotten back to work on Jennie’s Dead and Superior Wolf, not a lot of new content yet, but it will come.

Spent some time yesterday, too, in the what now seems eternal rearranging of the loft. Finding an optimal way to encourage my work with the tools I have: books, files, images, maps and brochures, workout equipment, lamps, chairs, is the goal. Still waiting on a couple of pieces from Jon, walnut shelves and a top for my art cart.

bandWhile I worked on rearranging the loft, I put on Pandora, the music streaming service. I have a Pandora station devoted to The Band, a sixties rock group who collaborated with Bob Dylan. As it played their music and music of similar contemporaries, an overwhelming sadness hit me.

It began with a memory of Vega, feeling her presence in my life, feeling her absence. But, it morphed into a more general sadness, possibly a melancholy nostalgia for the times the Band evokes, those days of the 60’s. It tapped, too, into old neurotic loops. What have I done with my life? Has it mattered? Does mattering matter? You know, those inner paths which have a Mobius strip nature, going nowhere in particular yet taking a very long time to get there, only to find out you’ve gotten back where you started.

As these moods do these days, these third phase days, they passed. Grieving Vega, grieving a time gone by, grieving unreasonable expectations. All part of life, not to be inhabited forever, but acknowledged. A hat tipped to them as they go by.

A less melancholy day today, I hope.

 

Again. More Snow.

Spring(?)                                          Wedding Moon

driveway the day we got home
driveway the day we got home

As Weather5280 keeps reminding those of us who live near the Denver metro, but in higher elevations, April is our snowiest month. Well, geez. Another big storm rumbles toward us for the end of this week. This stuff is heavy, wet. Not good for snowblowers, my chief tool in snow clearing.

I just put out a note to a local snowplower who also does high altitude gardening. We’ll need help. Ironically, our neighbors who cleared our driveway for us when we got 46 inches or so last week, left last Friday for Tijuana, driving. We’re watching their property. We may get a chance to return the favor.

Well over 170 inches this year. That’s a lot of white coming from the sky. It’s a good thing for the snow pack and at least for the early fire season. Another way of saying the transition here goes from winter to summer is to say we go from ice to fire. Makes for interesting living. And I mean that.

Life here, like life in Minnesota, finds mother earth a constant presence, one that cannot be sidelined by furnaces, air conditioners and trips to the beach.

house same day
house same day

On the other side of the world

Spring                                                     Wedding Moon

from Weather Underground:

Extraordinary Heat Wave Sweeps Southeast Asia and Points Beyond

What is most likely the most intense heat wave ever observed in Southeast Asia has been ongoing for the past several weeks. All-time national heat records have been observed in Cambodia, Laos, and (almost) in Thailand, Malaysia, Singapore, and Vietnam. Meanwhile extreme heat has resulted in all-time record high temperatures in the Maldives, India, China, and portions of Africa as well. Here are the details.

Did I mention it was hot while we were in Singapore?