Snow! 8 May 2014

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A freakish spring storm brought tornadoes, hail, and then in the middle of the night, snow! It was big fluffy flakes that covered the ground and is busy melting off now. The trees, the birds, the cattle and I were not quite ready for that. At three in the morning, it felt like Christmas, and even now, the cherry tree with its white blossoms looks like dollops of snow. The drink for the Earth around here was needed and the oats are soaking it up like a runner with a Gatorade after a marathon. It brings a certain sense of reality to  Jess in my new novel, who finds herself lost in a spring storm. The dangers of weather are  real in every rural area, and sometimes even in the city. I have to plan extra time on a morning like this to drive to work on the miles of what were dirt roads but now turned to mud. I can’t complain though, as we always need and welcome moisture.

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land 6 may 2014

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Everything is moving and breathing and having their being right now. Hawks are bountiful feasting on the massive amount of caterpillars. I spotted this amazing nest the other day; scared the hawk when I got close enough to take the photo, but I watched her come back. Trees are deciding maybe it’s safe to leaf out and flower. The cherry blossoms are sweet petite white flowers like little dollops of snow on the ends of the red branches. Chokecherries will be prolific again, which is good as the store of jelly is getting low. One of the apple trees has four or five blooms for the first time in the four years we’ve had those. The Earth is warming up and the roots are responding. And, if you wonder whether or not you like butter, the dandelions are plentiful enough to test yourself several times a day! The sunrise inspires me every day- I hope it does you too.

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Quiet 2 May 2014

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Blowing wind for five days and the first thing I notice this morning is that the outdoor thermometer is not banging against the kitchen window. Awake at 4AM due to the quiet, but it’s too early yet to head out for a run which I’ve missed all week. I run in snow, rain and temperatures below zero, but I hate running in the wind because there is always one direction where I’m pitted against the gale. I hate the way I feel like George Jetson on the space age treadmill and my breath being sucked right out of my lungs before I can even breathe! The trees are stiff with having braced themselves against a steady 40 mile an hour, and the 70 mile an hour gusts. Some of the finer branches have a permanent bent toward the east.

The definition of wind cracks me up:”the perceptible natural movement of the air, especially in the form of a current of air blowing from a particular direction.” Perceptible? Ya, I’d say it was definitely perceptible: observable, recognizable, palpable. Mm-hmm. Apparently there is an old elvin saying,  “Who can tell the mind of the Wind? Who can catch it and hold in their hand? Who can tell where the Wind has been blowing? And who among the wise can foretell where it will go?” Of the four elements, wind wins. It moves the earth as I can attest to driving through the brown cloud of dirt; it spreads fire like last year to the east of us when neighbors were devastated by fire lashed about in the wind; it also moves water (white caps in the stock tank) and as it has in the last five days, steals it from the earth and everything trying to grow. 

I admire the strength of it and love the coolness of it when it settles down to a breeze on a hot summer day.

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place 30 April 2014

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One of my favorite roads to drive, when we need to go to town, is this one that rolls up and down through the eastern Colorado grasslands. The sky fills the world with blue and I can understand why those who settled here decided that this would be their place. But I wonder as I do every time I pass an old homestead, why they abandoned it. The original farm house stands off by itself, with trees they must have planted a hundred years ago, lonely except for the hawks hunting mice and the occasional antelope, deer or coyote. I can hear this family gathered around the table to share a meal or having early morning coffee before they go out to do the chores. The children sitting around that table doing their figures and learning their letters while their mother adds to the pot on the cook stove for their noon meal. In the afternoon, the children would have finished up any chores they had and then they’d have been free to explore as long as they stayed together, discovering arrowheads or dinosaur bones or a nest of baby birds. Snug in their log home in winter, they’d be so grateful for the peppermint stick at Christmas and family prayers before bed. The writer in me can construct the whole story, but I can’t get my brain wrapped around the leaving.

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wind 28 April 2014

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Wind and getting windier. We had to make a run to Kansas yesterday to pick up a piece of equipment we need to plow here in a couple weeks. We’ll be getting a team of eight or so antique tractors together with one-ways to plow a couple of fields together and get them ready to plant wheat. It is such a great day to gather as neighbors, work the land, share a meal and tell stories of old! We try to hold these kind of neighbor events a couple times a year to celebrate what farming was and to hear the stories of those who lived them and to just have an old-fashioned social time. This is a shot of the farm from a couple evenings ago when everything was glowing and spring was almost ready to bloom. Now, the pear and plum trees have bloomed, the wild plum bushes are in bloom and the chokecherries are ready to burst forth and provide the fruit that lands in my jelly jars onto my toast in the morning–such rich purple-red goodness!

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The Big Valley 24 April 2014

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There are shows I watched as a kid that I could live in: Little House on the Prairie, Bonanza and The Big Valley. I’d love to see these shows up and in production again, right alongside Firefly. Then there’d be something worth watching on TV. I’d ride along with Little Joe and Hoss as they checked cattle in the high mountain pastures and I’d really appreciate the meal waiting back at the ranch. I’d ride into town with Heath and Jared and have my pistol on my belt too! I wouldn’t mind walking behind the horse or mule to help Pa plant the crops, teaching in the one room schoolhouse or helping Ma in the garden. If these three scenes took place on different planets, I’d love the ride! I heard on the news today that people who drink their coffee black, enjoy a simple life and are straightforward in the way they live. I think that is me–at least I know I like simple in life, down-to-earth and yet full of a slew of stars and planets and celestial bodies. Admittedly, I do add a bit of sugar now.

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Change 22 April 2014

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It is amazing what you can see if you allow yourself to take the time to notice. Working up the soil around the wild roses yesterday, we were getting rid of the weeds and cheat grass that came on so strong after that last wet snow. I heard them before I saw them because these are such noisy birds! They landed here in the lilacs last year about this time, stayed a couple of days and then moved on to wherever they find cattail ponds which they favor. I was grumbling about those weeds when the sound finally registered in my brain and I looked over to see a whole flock of yellow headed blackbirds in the lilacs. Their yellow heads are so striking; they are shining in the grass out the window even now as they gorge themselves on the plethora of cut worms we have this year. And then this morning, a most incredible sunrise heralded in the new day. Blessing. I can get lost in the wonders of creation just like I can get lost in words, whether I’m writing or reading them.  It may sound cheesy, but it is the romance of life.

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Easter 18 April 2014

 

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I wish all of you blessings on this Easter weekend. I’ll miss coloring eggs, but the colors in this changing Aspen remind me of all the colors of change and what is Easter if not the ultimate change? Snow has given way here to a blanket of bright yellow dandelions so we can all find out if we like butter and then, when the time is right, blow away the seeds to make a wish and start the cycle all over again.

Our new mulberry tree seems to be settling in and though our recently transplanted rhubarb is showing some cold burn in the leaves, I think both those plants will like it here too. As soon as the nurseries get their fruit trees in, we’ll add another peach and plum and maybe some hackberry as they are supposed to grow well here.

My Jess is still in the midst of winter, but I know that Sam is hopeful spring will bring the  two characters together in my new novel. Sometimes I guess we all get mired down in the labels others pin to us, but I feel strongly that Jess will eventually break free of hers.

Happy Easter!

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cotton 16 April 2014

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Texas is cotton growing country. Passing along harvested fields, it still looked like snow had fallen at some point in the last week and was now a bit dirty, but it was cotton that hadn’t been picked up by the combine and was left in the field just like corn kernels or wheat. Reading about the history of cotton and how it was ginned was incredible as was the beauty of the cotton gins themselves. These are two photos of two gins showing the craftsmanship, beautiful.

So, what can you  make from a bale of cotton which weighs about 480 pounds? 1,217 men’s t-shirts, 313,600 $100 dollar bills, 249 bed sheets, 3,085 diapers, 215 jeans, 4,321 mid-calf socks, 765 men’s dress shirts, 690 terry bath towels, 21,960 women’s handkerchiefs! Or, you could mix and match.

 

 

 

 

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Sand Creek 14 April 2014

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It’s still difficult to understand why the Sand Creek Massacre had to happen. I cannot fathom how human beings can be so horribly violent with each other. The site of the Sand Creek Massacre is beautiful, bordered on the south by the Sante Fe Trail and on the north by the Smoky Hill Trail. On the day we were there, it was windy and cool as we walked up the trail to the high look out. Gazing out over the trees that lined the creek, one could imagine the peace turning terribly wrong that morning. As the literature says,

“The effects of the attack reverberated for years, profoundly unsettling the Cheyenne and Arapaho people…cultural traditions destroyed…many families left without providers and children without parents. Thirteen Cheyenne chiefs and one Arapaho chief were killed along with any chance for peace. Despite the condemnation by the US Congress, no one connected with the massacre was ever indicted or tried in military or civilian court.”

 

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