This is exactly how I feel about animals. They are other nations. I discovered this quote in the office of our new vet, Dr. Palmini.
We need another and a wiser and perhaps a more mystical concept of animals. Remote from universal nature, and living by complicated artifice, man in civilization surveys the creature through the glass of his knowledge and sees thereby a feather magnified and the whole image in distortion. We patronize them for their incompleteness, for their tragic fate of having taken form so far below ourselves. And therein we err, and greatly err. For the animal shall not be measured by man. In a world older and more complete than ours they move finished and complete, gifted with extensions of the senses we have lost or never attained, living by voices we shall never hear. They are not brethren, they are not underlings; they are other nations, caught with ourselves in the net of life and time, fellow prisoners of the splendour and travail of the earth. Henry Beston, author of the Outermost House
I took this video and these photographs on my into Evergreen for Mother’s Day presents. Our picnic in City Park had to be moved to Jon and Jen’s due to the possibility of snow and/or heavy rain. A most peculiar May here I’m told by locals.
Cub Creek at Lower Maxwell Falls Trailhead
Cub Creek near Highway 73 that goes into Evergreenlocal cardinal likes Evergreen coffee
Yesterday was dog taxi day. Vega to vet. Vega back from vet. Kepler to the dog groomer for furmination. Kepler back from the groomer. In between I threw in changing the tires on the Rav4. Feels much better to have those soft snow tires off the truck. No longer flensing rubber on the consistently dry pavement.
Vega has been subdued, but she did start eating this morning. That’s a good sign. Kepler looks sleak. The groomer said he had “an amazing amount of fur.” The reason his head was wet when I picked him up? “He didn’t want his head dried. And I decided to honor that.” Wise choice. When I said he was stubborn, she said, “He’s an Akita.”
The drive to Pine Junction, location of Paws and Claws, is spectacular. Once just beyond Conifer on 285 a long, high range of snowcapped peaks becomes visible. Riding through the mountains, seeing more mountains ahead. Wonderful treat for an ordinary trip to a groomers. The road off 285 that takes me close to Paws and Claws is Mt. Evans Drive, the highest paved road in North America. Haven’t driven the rest of it. Not opened yet. Closed all winter plus some.
We’re getting so close on the Andover sale. Just a few items from the inspection list, nothing major. Then, Kate will drive to Minnesota for the closing. She’ll see her friends and have that, oh, I’m here as a no longer resident experience.
Kate’s come down with some kind of bug. She went to the Colorado Potter’s show on Friday, the National Quilt Festival on Saturday and had the grandkids on Sunday. That’s a lot. Exhaustion plus many strangers can = not feel good.
Vega’s going into the vet today. She’s been listless since the attack yesterday and I discovered several more bites last night. She becomes very protective of her body when she’s hurt and didn’t allow examination until then. Kep, the attacker, goes to Paws and Claws for furmination today. He’s shedding with the seasonal change. A new issue for us since we’ve had dogs that don’t really blow their coats.
The Michelins go onto today at 2:00 pm. That means the Blizzaks will come home to stand ready for the next snow season. Which might be this weekend. Forecasts have us getting 5-8″ of snow on Friday or Saturday. How bout that?
Finally, tonight at 6:00 pm, if it’s not raining hard, I’ll take my Colorado Flora and its many taxonomic keys to Green Mountain in Lakewood. This will be practice for the Friday and Saturday classes at Mt. Falcon in Morrison and Sterling respectively.
Into Denver today to pick up four Michelin Latitude Tours. Saved $300 over my mechanic’s quote for the same tire. Tire Rack.com you rock!
On the way back I stopped at Paxton Lumber Company just off Colorado Avenue near I-70. Actor Bill Paxton is a member of this family. Jon recommended it. They have wood for wood workers. I’m looking for wood to make a new top for some Ikea cabinets I have.
Woods they had, often 10-12 foot boards, many 3 inches thick: chestnut, yellowheart, padauk, wenge, pecan hickory, mahogany, teak, brown ash, walnut, alder, white ash, cherry, red oak, white oak, european beech, aromatic cedar (smelled so good) plus other, softer woods like pines, basswood, poplar. What a great place. Finishing the book shelves, getting a new top for my cabinets will mean I can organize and then use all my resources. Excited about that.
When I got back into the mountains, I made a stop in Indian Hills, a small town just off Hwy. 285. The Mirada Art Gallery there has a good reputation, the best in the Denver metro in spite of being in a relatively out of the way spot. It had a show of contemporary artists focused on the West that will close Friday.
The art, most of it, did not attract my eye. Too loose, too colorful, not enough depth. Expensive art to match your couch. However, sculpture Jennifer Stratman and painter Alvin Gill-Tapia would look good in any museum or home.
These were places I’d wanted to see for some time, but the opportunity hadn’t presented itself. Today, it did.
While I was gone, the dogs tripped over into predator behavior. They are neither pliable, nor sensible in that state. Gertie has a wound just below her left eye. She looks like a prize fighter. Vega, who had attacked both Gertie and Kepler earlier in the morning, got bitten by Kepler. The e-collar he’s in didn’t bother him. Kate said he clamped on and wouldn’t let go. It’s not a terrible wound, but it’s a puncture wound through the dermis, so she’s back on antibiotics.
Vega, in a happier moment, with her sister, Rigel
When they’re in a predatory frenzy, fights and biting occur at the door. Doorways are places where doggy status becomes critical, top dogs through first, omegas go last. In the frantic scrums like the one this morning everybody tries to get through the door at once. Havoc can, and did this morning, ensue.
Dewpoint and temperature hovering together. Smoke in the mountains. Ponderosa pines covered in low hanging clouds. The air is, uncharacteristically for most of the year, humid. The green revolution has moved up Shadow Mountain to Black Mountain and Black Mountain Drive. No flowers yet, but lots of grass, ground cover, dogwoods and willows.
We’re down to the final movement in the Real Estate Symphony. The pace picks up as it does in the music hall. The inspection report is done. A few items to attend to, but not many though managing their completion from 900 miles will present some challenge. Not insuperable. Closing by May 29 if not before.
With the Andover house rocketing toward new (and appreciative) ownership and my biopsy scheduled for next Monday resolution of difficult issues could be close. When the closing is over, the house sale will be over. And none too soon. When a diagnosis is on the table, then next steps can be considered, action taken, not just waiting.
It’s possible, even likely, that we’ll hit June with the energy from resolution spurring us into the summer.
Old Mammoths stare at 2.7 billion year old rock formation, Ely GreenstoneBurntside Lake, shore near Dane CabinStill on dry landTwo early morning kayakersA contemplative Mark OdegardWho doesn’t like salad?Kitchen at ThorThorScott Simpson and Mark Odegard in Thor
left to right: Tom Crane, Paul Strickland, Bill Schmidt, Frank Broderick, Stefan Helgeson, Charlie Haislet, Mark Odegard, Scott Simpson, Warren Wolfe
The Woolly Mammoths have gathered annually for 28 years, this in addition to twice monthly meetings. In the early years we had highly structured retreats, with each man expected to present an hours worth of reflection on mother, father, death, pilgrimage, themes that mattered to us at the time. We may have needed the careful boundaries to insure we didn’t get too close, have too much time for random conversation.
Over the last several years our retreats have become less structured, often lacking even the semblance of structure beyond beginning and end. This year had a little structure, a trip to the International Wolf Center, a meal prepared by star chef Haislet, a dramatically presented poem, but for the most part we gathered in small groups or one on one. We talked about travel plans, retirement, marriage, health, books, Chinese tea. Some kayaked, others hiked, a couple napped.
We came together three times a day for meals, but otherwise the time was mostly self-0rganizing. And very comfortable. Intimate.
I suspect this is the pattern of the future. And the future may be, will be different. It might involve electronic gatherings via skype or adobe or some other conferencing type of software. We are aging and will not always be able to gather in strength. We have to plan now to keep our group vital.
Overlooking the North Arm of Burntside LakeChipmunk dining tableAt the International Wolf CenterNorth American Bear CenterThe bear that walks like a manWoolly’s at the shoreBurntside looking east
The plane performed its wonder, lifting a couple of hundred people into the air. The full Beltane moon lit up the clouds passing by underneath. I stared out the window, a bit confused, leaving Minnesota to return home. This required an adjustment in my thinking.
Then, when I arrived at my home airport, it was strange, another place on the road with unfamiliar paths and habits. Mostly I enjoy learning new things, but it was 10 pm, almost my bedtime and I stumbled a bit, as I would in an airport unknown to me. This experience conflicted with Kate waiting in the cell-phone lot, ready to pick me up and take me back to the mountains. Odd.
Coming home to Colorado, the first time from away. The Woolly retreat for 2015 now over.
It’s a cliche. Felt like I never left. But true. Slipping back into the physical presence of my friends, my Woolly brothers, was like putting on a comfortable shirt. It just fit. Coming as it did a couple of weeks after the start of the prostate path, it was especially welcome. One friend has had prostate surgery. Another knew many who had. Most of the news was positive. Cures, few side effects. Offers to talk further as the path winds on. So welcome.
I suspect the level of my comfort at Camp du Nord, about a half-hour north and west of Ely, figured inversely to the level of strangeness I felt when returning to Colorado. But. I had no desire to remain in Minnesota, to reconsider our decision. I wanted to get home.
