I don’t care what IBM claims, Analytics does not replace Intuition.
Category Archives: Living
Winter Past
wind felled tree
The forecast stated rain this morning. I was just hoping it was wrong. Dressed for a hike I headed out of the canyon where I live to more reliable weather. But the rain was already there. I turned back toward home as the rain followed slowly behind. Across the bridge with the creek raging snow melt below, past the arcs of snow that remain in the yard. Tennis balls lost in the snow to Noel over winter are emerging like little bright green treasures. We find a few and I throw them to her while watching the heavy sky above move closer to my head.
I have learned this past winter that wind can be fierce in the canyon. We had some nights that I even wanted to crawl into the closet in the basement. The large Douglas fir trees and others that surround the house are close to 100 feet tall. I took stock of them last fall after I lost the top of one of them that lives so close to my house. Immense and powerful. The steep hill behind my house is all forest with heavy underbrush and I realized as the snow began to melt and I was spending more time outside that one of these great trees had fallen behind the house. Seems like a good time to explore the tree and experience just how big it was.
remaining trunk
It had twisted and broke during one of the storms and the stump that remained was taller than me. I can see as I get closer that it had split and twisted vertically in two locations. The base was so large its difficult to imagine it giving way to the wind. But there it lay long and broken down the hillside pointed toward my house. I paid homage, I feel its bark, its skin, and appreciate the needles that remain green on the trunk that now lays on the ground. Heading back down the hill I follow the narrow deer paths that lead to one of the largest trees at the bottom. Exposed roots make me wonder how long it will live against the wind. This spot, behind the tree, has some collected garbage, things that must have come from the neighbors trash. And now I realize why this spot always felt a bit spooky to me in the dark of the winter night. Teeth holes in the plastic milk carton tell me something has been there. Something large – an animal – I heard moving up there this winter – has spent more than a passing moment at that tree. This tree has had a long life, including the 2x4s that remain nailed into it’t trunk.
I look out at the forest. The rain has arrived and falls like a morning in the Northwest. Light but constant. My hike will wait for now. I will wait, and instead watch the male robin who has been sitting on the deck railing for the past few days expressing his dominance to the reflection in the glass window that separates me from him.
The Sound of Avalanches
Next morning. No internet. No water. No heat. No phone. The culprit is electricity . No power at my place means that the link I have to most modern conveniences are gone. At least temporarily.
The exchange for this temporary loss is the magnificent and powerful experience of the forest that surrounds me. Last night we had a huge wet snowfall. It came so fast in fact, landing on what remained of winter’s crunchy snow that the build up caused avalanches in the mountains behind my house. I have seen large avalanches in the mountains. But to hear them from your own house while you lay in the dark is a bit un-nerving. Loud whamps, growling swooshes, and then the pressure build up hits the face of the building. Like I said, un-nerving.
We survived the night. No trees down on the house or wall of snow. Instead beautiful, deep snow surrounded the house . What was slushy winter on its way out was replaced with heavy white spring snow covering all things.
Unlike a satellite dish that simply can be swept off to regain communication with the rest of the world, nothing can be done but wait for the power lines to be repaired. Which is not such a bad thing when you have 12″ of new snow right outside your door….but before that I need a cup of tea.
Sweeping
How’s your internet working ? Ok? Speed fast enough? Reliable? Ever quit working on you when you need it? And when it stops working you make that call to your “provider” and wait. Wait. Wait and listen to whatever recording they have decided is going to assist your patience. You wait longer. I know this drill, too.
But where I live, not in an apartment, not in a city. Not in that place where your only option for getting your internet back on line is to call the one eight hundred number. I live in that place where getting your internet back online involves a broom, winter coat and boots, and a tall ladder. Grasping broom in hand I climb the ladder to the top and sweep off the snow that covers the satellite dish , and then wipe the snow off the little reflector for the dish. Reset! Ta-da ! Back down the ladder and inside to stream more music and watch the fire dancing around inside the firebox. Big, big snow falling from the sky . Night coming. Color from pink to blue to white. Witnessing what is most likely the last big collection of snow for the year.
Seed
Yesterday was a cold day. We have them from time to time. The days we measure below zero. Twenty-five below zero, for instance. But yesterday the cold was different because the wind was ruling. Whipping across the open fields and funneling down Main Street. A day that makes you realize how small, vulnerable, un-furry we humans are. And maybe for some, that is me, acting with disregard toward the reality of blowing cold wind and snow.
But you see, I got the wrong bird seed the day before. And with all the trees without leaves , and snow covering all the earth around me, I’m sympathizing with the little birds who are also experiencing the bitter cold and wind. I’ve seen them before on the trails in the forest. Dead from the quick cold.
I’m not a bird expert. But I know they are here with me in the woods. The first seed I brought was for finch. Evidently there are no Finch in the forest around me right now. Back to the hardware store for more seed I chose the custom “mountain mix” thinking, that’s where I live. The mountains.
Back home. Changed out the seed. Rehang the feeders. It’s negative ten with wind blowing. But no birds came. I was not surprised . I went to sleep last night wondering what change in weather would bring the birds off their branches to the feeder.
This morning was warmer. By 7 am it was negative two and the sun could be sensed through the low cloud cover. One brave little bird flies across the open yard from woods to seed. Wings warm enough to fly. Then a few more . They are Chickadees. A little sunshine and they sing, they come. Many now. Back and forth with little seeds in their mouths from perch to branch. They land on my window sill. They are calling me to come outside.
Powder Days
It has been one of those days that folks who live in snow country live for. An overnight and early morning snow on Saturday. OMG!! A powder day on the weekend ! Not too cold. Beautiful, still. From my place the snow had gathered 6-8″ deep. Maybe even 10 gauging from the top of my boot.
It was still snowing at 9 am when I left my place for a hot yoga class. Floated right out if the driveway and road because nothing had been plowed yet . My first attempt at some concentrated exercise after wrecking my back in an exercise class. It was my lower spine, the doc said. The sacrum, actually . The cure? Acupuncture. I had never had acupuncture before. But here it was. Time to get over fear of needles. It’s all about energy and breathing he said. I thought, sounds like yoga….I can do this. No problem. Needles followed by thirty minutes of relaxing and prana type breathing . A week of sessions and holding off from hiking or other exercise and the excruciating pain I had been experiencing for 2 months is gone! Yay! Ok. So back to today and yoga. I took it easy. No crazy twisting. Very measured. And hot! Dripping with sweat as one does in those classes. A quick meal afterwards and home to enjoy the snow.
I live at the end of one of the canyons in Bozeman at the edge of one of the largest parking areas and trail heads. I had heard that the route up another road to the local ski mountain had been bumper to bumper, but that did not prepare me for the cars at the road around my house. Wow!! And then I saw it. A cute little red Jetta with Bozeman plates. Parked right in front of my driveway. Seriously? And then a few other choice words were floating around in my head. Couldn’t they see my tracks out from a few hours earlier??
I wanted to get up my driveway and there was just enough space for me to shimmy my SUV between two cars . But the road plow had left a mountain of snow at my driveway edge that would require some momentum to get over . Not a delicate move, nor a shimmy. The only thing to do was dig out the snow so I could get past the little red Jetta . Retrieving my snow shovel I went to work on the mound. Yes . I made it up the driveway . And if you happen to see a cute little red Jetta with Bozeman plates driving past you that has a sweet little mound of snow on top of it. Just know it was parked in front of my driveway. As far as overworking my back?? Nah, it was a powder day. That stuff was light as a feather!
Hope everybody had a great Saturday doing whatever life presented them with.
winter breath
This morning it is perfectly still outside. Looking out my living room window into the trees and mountains rising up beyond the sun is shining on the distant ridge. The world is so still out there it truly looks like a post card. Snow covering the ground, layered on the branches of trees. And that beautiful sunshine creeping up the canyon. It is also twenty-three below zero outside. No surprise no one is at the trailhead across the road. I’m waiting, not only for the severe cold to leave, but for the sickness that invaded my body two weeks ago to leave. Most of the time when I am sick it is some sort of sinus, running nose thing. I usually push through these viruses and ailments regardless of the winter season. I still hike and ski despite a little head cold. But this time was different, and if I could plan, I would plan to never be sick like this again. It has really cramped my style, shut me down. I thought I had it beat. But then I needed to travel to Fargo North Dakota to recruit. It wasn’t Fargo that did me in, I think it was the stress from traveling, combined with the cold. But there it was, seven below zero in Fargo and my lungs just couldn’t take the stress any more. Despite a complete minimization of social time on my trip I continued to get worse. Head felt like it was going to explode, sick to my stomach, and lungs that were coughing up knarly sounds, only light breaths. When I finally made it home to Bozeman I visited my favorite Urgent Care clinic, because, like most of us today, I don’t have a primary care physician….I did not have pneumonia, they said. Simply a sinus and lung infection. A round of antibiotics and I should feel better. On the second night of my antibiotics I was floating across the floor on unsteady feet. That feeling when you are so sick you are out of your body. Not a happy making experience. But now, on day five, my feet are on the ground. My lungs are almost working normal again. But not normal enough to go outside and hike or ski. And this is why I am sitting here writing. Being so sick we cannot behave in our normal behavior is having days of a life taken away. I look outside at the beautiful snow, I look through the fly-fishing magazine in my lap. I look at the rivers and creeks and rising mountains on the pages and am reminded of what I love to do in life. I love being outside. I love feeling the world. I’m looking at the page open, and the little wooden skiff someone sailed up stream in, and dreaming….I would love to do this; that little boat and me. I wonder how long it would take to learn how to move a boat like that along a river’s shore. I sit back in my chair. I look at the snow outside. The slice of bright white sunlight that is now cutting along the blue, snow covered canyon floor in front of my house. I practice taking a few deep breaths, I test my lungs. Not quite ready yet. Not full breaths yet. I practice pranayama, the deep breath of life. Connecting with the life force. Deeper and deeper each day. Waiting for the temperatures to rise outside, feeling today and making ready for tomorrow.
What We Eat
Food. What I eat has been a long preoccupation. Long before Michael Pollan gained fame with his book “Second Nature” I was fascinated with food and eating. I am not exactly sure why, I guess it seems to bring the world into perspective for me. The tastes of food tie me to an experience and a place. They are specific, like scents that can bring you back to a place or memory when you smell something in particular.
When I was thirteen I chose to celebrate my birthday at an herb farm that was out in the country in Texas. When I think back to this event, I marvel that there was such a place in Texas, and that I wanted to celebrate my young teen birthday there. No wonder the kids in high school looked at me strange. I was and am strange. The choice of eating at the herb farm was not only for the food, but for the experience. The experience of eating, the celebration with friends, and the place. It was a marvelous place of gardens and green houses. It was architecture tied with food. And maybe that is where architecture and food tied together for me for the first time.
Since that birthday I have remained engaged with food and eating. How it is prepared, where it is grown or produced, differences in spice and deviations relative to the place. I have years of specific memories of eating. I have a collective of experiences of growing food and then learning how to cook with what I have grown. And today I am thinking about how food, eating and growing is becoming a discussion point for sustainability.
If you have been a student at Remote Studio you know that cooking and eating communal meals is an important aspect of the semester. I intentionally integrated cooking and eating into the program because of my belief that how and what we eat is critical to a whole and potentially best lived life. It enriches us, it grounds us, it defines place. It is celebratory, it can give meaning to events, it provides memories and ultimately helps us share our lives with others.
Coming of the Solstice
These are the quiet days of snow. Light emerges from the horizon changing the tone of the sky. The darkness of the world outside begins to take the shape of woods. Last night’s snow has filled in all the past memories. Paths are gone. Footsteps erased. Branches laced with white move in and out of the coming morning.
We are in the days of half-light. Planning is required for movement to coincide with the daylight. This is the season we are provided to look inside ourselves and outside ourselves at the same time. Contemplation corresponding to the briefness of light. Measuring actions, worth and beliefs. Slowing our movement, sitting still for moments to wonder about what is next to come. Like children with their noses to the window when it rains in the summer, with the lengthy darkness we are given the time to consider our futures and the world we want to live in.
It is no wonder to me why the Ancient European Pagans would have ritualized this time for remembering the past year, and thinking and planning for the next. Their health, success, and longevity depended on their ability to link past actions and events with the future they wanted to live. Honoring the gods, the Earth, reckoning lives. Burning the Yule Log (known in many other names), the densest log available, marked the transition from darkness to light, and the transition to longer days.
Let us all find the path in the snow in the early dawn that will bring us joy, keep us safe, and bring us peace in the coming season of light.
The Fully Lived Life
We never really know how long we have on Earth. Such an obvious statement. But I have noticed the older I get the more intense this statement is . I dont know what goes on in everybody else’s head, but in mine everyday it seems like I have to make more choices for the things I will let go of in life, the things I will never get to do, in order to spend more time in life on a select few. About a decade ago I recognized the fact that there were so many books I wanted to write, businesses I wanted to start, buildings to design, students to educate, jewelry to design, places to live or visit ….but frustrated in realizing that there was not enough time in my life to do them all. The challenge has been making choices for the experiences and challenges I most want to pursuit and then to pursuit them without regret. It’s not easy to slip past regret or worry if I am making the best choices.
It’s simpler for us to look at others and value the things they have done, the path, and the richness in their life. Not just the big public things, but the personal living. This is the hitch I have been thinking about. The loss of the everyday experiences, those things we believe we have the rest if our lives for .
This week the Earth and it’s Earthlings lost Ben Bullington. He will be missed by thousands of people for a thousand different reasons. All of these reasons contribute to his legacy, the mark he left on others.
I don’t have any anecdote for his passing before we all wished he would go. I know his soul lives on. I know he left an impression on me from the few times we crossed paths and from his music.
Mostly I am taking stock of life , it’s fragility, it’s speed, it’s fullness, its heartbreak, and how we choose to participate , how I choose to participate, today and tomorrow….
between here and there 