We woke to 8-9 inches of snow this morning after a high of 58 degrees yesterday. I should be used to Colorado’s swiftly-changing weather patterns and yet was still surprised to see that beautiful white blanket outside. We’re in desperate need of moisture so it was with happy hearts that Wildebeest and I shoveled all that heavy snow (although he might define the experience differently).
Zippy and I just walked Emma through the slushy streets of our neighborhood.
It was a bit chilly in the shade but nice in the sun. And those dry patches of pavement were especially welcome. This low-quality photo taken with my phone doesn’t do justice to how good it felt to be outside in the sunshine, breathing clean, crisp air.
ETA: Zippy sent me these photos right after I’d posted.
Life’s a particularly hard row to hoe these days. BUT. Today is a very good day because I just finished making congratulatory phone calls to the applicants who’ve been accepted into the Michelle Begley Mentor Program. There’s much joy that comes from being the program coordinator, and a big piece of that joy is getting to be the bearer of good news. Woot! I do love spreading happiness.
And now I think I’ll take the doggo out for a walk in the sunshine.
Lucky, lucky me.
Marcel rehearsing his scary face. January 25, 2020.
People in the neighborhood are being creative with their candy offerings. One house has a long tube running from an upstairs window to the driveway. I think the trick or treaters are supposed to shout in the tube to make candy come down. Another house has a catapult. We’re setting out candy on a table in the driveway which isn’t nearly as creative, but it’s still a fine chocolate-delivery system.
Mourning dove. August 29, 2019
We must combine the toughness of the serpent with the softness of the dove, a tough mind and a tender heart.
~ Martin Luther King, Jr.
Emma. September 14, 2020
Here’s my happy doggo to perk up anyone in need of perking (not to be confused with twerking, although, if twerking makes you feel better, by all means do that!) The photographic quality is low and Emma’s smile is slightly blurred, but the emotions shine through.
As Charles M. Schulz famously wrote, happiness is a warm puppy.
Thinking about all the workers out there struggling to pay rent, buy food, keep their lives going. Thinking about one of my sons who is struggling to find a job in this economy and who may very well be moving back home in the near future. He’s grateful he has a place to land if it comes to that, but it shouldn’t come to that. Not for him and not for other young people facing a bleak future. They should be able to live their lives on their own terms.
This is a disgrace and we must do better. Much better.
I sat down to blog about porcupine quills and my dear old husky, Flaco, when the group chat for the eviction defense group blew up. Why? Because it looks as if the Centers for Disease Control (CDC) is preparing to issue a federal evictions ban effective September 4 –December 31, 2020, for those making less than $99,000/year.
Chat reactions were variations of “this would be amazing!” I wholeheartedly agree. As I also noted in the chat, it’s an indictment of our society that we’re viewing a common sense and humane move as “amazing,” but that’s how low they’ve set the bar.
Renters and those with mortgages are still liable for back rent, penalties, interest, etc. It is definitely a good step, but because it doesn’t include a cancellation of rent and mortgage, people are going to be hit hard at the end of the year.
Scroll down to page 34 at the end of the document for the DECLARATION UNDER PENALTY OF PERJURY FOR THE CENTERS FOR DISEASE CONTROL AND PREVENTION’S TEMPORARY HALT IN EVICTIONS TO PREVENT FURTHER SPREAD OF COVID-19. This must be signed and given to the landlord.
Forget the porcupine quills, I’m going with a red rose.
As is typical for me these days, I had to give myself a pep talk to get out of bed this morning. After making it to an upright position, the day turned into one thing after another. Small things that demanded my attention and action, but nothing of substance. I have zero sense of accomplishment or completion.
This entire hot, smoky Monday I’ve felt scattered, unfocused, and non-productive. Weepy, screamy, and anxious. Overheated, overwhelmed, and over it all.
I wish it would rain.
Grand Island, NE. June 2, 2020.
I listened, motionless and still;
And, as I mounted up the hill,
The music in my heart I bore,
Long after it was heard no more.
~ William Wordsworth
For years, a cherry tree flourished in a four feet by four feet space on the patio. It was lovely and we made pie with its fruit. The birds, bees, and we loved it. Then the tree became sick and we had to cut it down. Last summer, one volunteer sunflower grew in that space.
Sunflowers on patio. July 12, 2020.
This year, it’s a literal sunflower forest. I just took my camera out there to finally document the tangle of stalks and blooms. And I smiled the entire time. Here’s a tiny sampling of the happy flowers thriving there.
My confession? Right now I hardly miss our dear old cherry tree.
Owl Creek Pass, Colorado. July 30, 2019
Twisting mountain roads
scenery great temptation
eyes on the road, yo
Justice is not a natural part of the lifecycle of the United States,
nor is it a product of evolution;
it is always the outcome of struggle.
Chattanooga, United States. June 1, 2020 Photo by Kelly Lacy from Pexels
Spotted this rabbit in Nebraska. The attitude feels a bit different than Colorado bunnies. Anyone else picking up on a General Woundwort vibe?
Grand Island, NE. June 2, 2020.
(Full disclosure: During my time in Nebraska, I saw very few people wearing masks and sensed hostility toward me and my mask-wearing ways. Which is to say, this bunny was probably chill and a total Bigwig, and I’m just projecting.)
Your mileage may vary, but today I find this perspective quite comforting:
Who are we? We find that we live on an insignificant planet of a humdrum star lost in a galaxy tucked away in some forgotten corner of a universe in which there are far more galaxies than people. ~ Carl Sagan
Rustler Gulch Trail. Crested Butte. July 26, 2018.
. . . to meet a sunflower that didn’t lift my spirits.
Glorious sunflower blooming in backyard, August 8, 2018.
Hidden bee in lavender. July 16, 2016.
We’re months away from lavender blooming in our yard, but just looking at this photo brings calm. And when I breathe deeply, I can almost smell the flowers.
Must remember to breathe . . .
November 30, 2019
It might not look that way, but Marcel is very pleased that Zippy and I caucused today for the open Colorado senate seat. He was thrilled to find out that of the 8 people who showed up in our precinct, 6 of us were for Andrew Romanoff (and only two for the DCCC-annointed oil and gas man). Marcel was less excited to learn that caucus rules/math required a roll of the dice for the last “tied” delegate and that the roll went to the oil and gas man.
However, Marcel knows it’s a WIN when Romanoff gets 4 delegates to the county assembly and the other guy only got two. Marcel is a whiz with numbers.
Unbelievable (except, not really) how the political and media establishment are working SO hard to squash the working people’s movement. Ugly stuff on display right now. I was happier earlier in the day when I was unplugged from it all.
Tomorrow I’m going out for more of the same. Highly recommend doing the same!
Emma. February 2020.
The dog is a reflection of your energy, of your behavior. ~ Cesar Millan
It’s true. Emma’s expression accurately reflects my energy level this windy Monday.
So, sue me.
Feb 5, 2020. Marcel sees into the future.
Come mothers and fathers
Throughout the land
And don’t criticize
What you can’t understand
Your sons and your daughters
Are beyond your command
Your old road is
Please get out of the new one
If you can’t lend your hand
For the times they are a-changin’.
~ Bob Dylan
And we don’t need a weatherman to know which way the wind blows. (Don’t let Marcel’s expression fool you–it’s a good direction. 🙂 )
Marcel. February 5, 2020.
Or, “Thinking is hard.”
Last night I met with Writing Roosters, my critique group, to discuss my latest novel. As always, they offered solid insights and made plenty of suggestions for how to improve the manuscript. I’ve spent much of the day staring and thinking. Honestly, at times the process is a bit overwhelming.
Perhaps Marcel could plot my course forward.
February 5, 2018.
You must not know too much, or be too precise or scientific about birds and trees and flowers and water-craft; a certain free margin, and even vagueness — perhaps
ignorance, credulity — helps your enjoyment of these things. ~ Walt Whitman
Cave Creek Canyon, Chiricahua Mountains. May 16, 2019
Stranger, if thou hast learned a truth which needs
No school of long experience, that the world
Is full of guilt and misery, and hast seen
Enough of all its sorrows, crimes, and cares,
To tire thee of it, enter this wild wood
And view the haunts of Nature . . .
~ William Cullen Bryant
Two days ago it was 70+ degrees here in Colorado and I went out for a run in a t-shirt. Yesterday, the temperatures dropped to about 25 degrees. Today? About 11 degrees and the snow keeps falling. I’m trying to focus on the cozy aspects of being “trapped” inside. Tea, books, space heater. More tea.
I’m also keeping an eye on the feeders.
Northern Flicker. February 4, 2020.
S[he] who marvels at the beauty of the world in summer will find equal cause for wonder and admiration in winter. ~ John Burroughs