2008 in images

Some memories from 2008:



(A rainbow in Color Country.)





(Wandering in Upper Box Death Hollow with Ellen and Pippin.)





(Burro Wash slot canyon hike.)





(Capitol Reef National Park covered in snow.)





(Ancient Fremont petroglyh in Pleasant Creek Canyon, Capitol Reef National Park.)







(Me and Two-Bit on Boulder Mountain, with Thousand Lake Mountain behind us.)





(Thanks to Dan C. for this one, taken of the monks at Hell's Backbone in Boulder, Utah.)





(Pippin meditating by the Fremont River.)



There are of course a million more images and memories I have of 2008...but these will have to do for now.

Happy New Year's Eve. Here's to remembering the old and yet also making way for the new (hopefully improved?) ahead of us.

2008 in images

clearing the slate

That time of year is upon us. The time to reconcile, to reflect, to cast ahead into the murky future and wish fervently that it be so, so much better than the past year.

In other words, it's time to clear the slate of 2008 (hey, poet) and project wondrous abundance into 2009.

Here's what I plan on doing in the next few days to help me clear my own slate:

1) Gather materials for my 2009 vision board. This includes ripping relevant pictures and words out of magazines, corralling crayons and markers and perhaps glitter glue pens, and of course manifesting the perfect white board at my local Rite-Aid.

2) Reflect on everything that happened to me over 2008 by going through journals, blog posts, my own memories, and emails from friends. Oh, and Facebook, that keeper of milestones...

3) Light a candle or two on New Year's Eve and release everything that happened in and around my life in 2008. Meditate. Be calm and still.

4) Work on my vision board on New Year's Day. Drink some darn good coffee.

5) Enjoy my dog, my cats, my family. Take time to truly appreciate and be thankful for the little things.

There may be more, but for now, that's enough to occupy me! What are your plans for the New Year?

clearing the slate

happy holidays

Merry Christmas to all...Happy Solstice...etc. etc. for all the beliefs out there.

May you have snowy vistas to see, endless fields of adventure to explore, and a bright day to greet you...today and always.

happy holidays

oh, those activists

Thanks to faithful reader Chris for drawing my attention to this article in the Salt Tribune about a young activist's impassioned, um, actions regarding the land lease sale.

Check out this blog too, oneutah.org. Another cool place for info!
And Tim DeChristopher will be interviewed by CNN today as well.

And finally, here's a press release from SUWA yesterday noting other action.


Cool beans, kid. Bravery should never be mocked, no matter what the final outcome.

“Never doubt that a small group of thoughtful, committed citizens can change the world; indeed, it's the only thing that ever does.” -- Margaret Mead

oh, those activists

BLM Utah land lease update

Some recent info on the BLM's proposed Utah land leasing: an article in the Salt Lake Tribune about oil-shale, and the latest news from SUWA about the land leases and a lawsuit featuring activist figurehead Robert Redford.

And here is a Desert News article from yesterday, featuring BLM Director Selma Sierra defending the agency's decision to sell the parcels.

What does this all mean? Hopefully, more time bought for wiser, less greedy heads to prevail. And for the public to get its collective head out of the morass of economic doom & gloom (not to downgrade the importance of that current, grim situation) to realize that, without a planet and wild places for future generations to play in, the economy doesn't mean all that much...

As usual, we'll see what happens next.

BLM Utah land lease update

secretary of the interior nominee

So Ken Salazar is Oabama's official nominee for Interior Secretary (I'm watching the live press conference on CNN right now).

The question on many people's minds is, Is he a good choice?

Well, gosh, I sure don't know. But here's what I do know:

1) He's a Democrat. Okay, mild point for that. (Yes, still questionable, as it's not like being a Democrat grants one a golden halo--see Rod Blagojevich.)
2) He's a lifelong, multi-generational Westerner. 'nother point for, *we hope,* having a deep understanding of the multi-faceted land issues in the western states. This point is in contention, however.
3) He's Latino. Cool, another addition to the incoming Cabinet as being beyond the old white men club. Okay, mild point there.
4) He's a rancher, which makes me suspicious right off the bat (without doing any checking into his specific way of ranching--I'm just generally suspicious of most ranchers). Take away a point.
5)Comments such as this one give me pause: “Senator Salazar has been a champion for Colorado’s farmers, ranchers, and rural communities, ensuring that the 2007 Farm Bill and our energy policy create food and fuel security for America.” Not sure what to do with my impromptu point system here. I mean, I live in a rural community, and I love it much of the time, and I want to see it succeed and get all the resources it needs. But some people here in my very own county think that the ranching way of life is the lifeblood of Wayne County--and it most definitely is not! Only four families in this county of 2500+ people still exist solely by their ranching. However, many of WC's political decisions are made by, um, those in favor of the ranchers (hello, biased County Commissioners)...hmm. Point left hanging between sides...
6) He's voted in line with some of my own environmental beliefs, not to mention other issues. Add point.
7) He apparently cannot be labeled an "environmentalist." Is he a pacification to the Republicans by Obama? Hmm...maybe. Which could be unfortunate. Take point away.
8) Don't know much else but this: No matter what, this will be an interesting ride to witness!

Some links to public thought on Ken Salazar may be found here, here, here, here, and here. All interesting reads, with of course links to lead you down many other twisty Internet pathways to yet more information...

So. Will Ken Salazar make a good Interior Secretary? The real question is, By whose standards? Can't please 'em all all of the time... Time will tell. I, for one, will be keeping an eye on him...

And on a final humorous note, here is an urban legend of a priceless dumb celeb quote to prove just how much some Americans know about their own government (although to be perfectly frank, this particular Interior Secretary probably deserved it). Even if it ain't for reals, it's pretty darn funny:

"You've done a nice job of decorating the White House." -- Jessica Simpson, upon meeting Interior Secretary Gale Norton.

secretary of the interior nominee

is that a lynx I see?

So a cool thing happened the other day. Visitors wandering Capitol Gorge in Capitol Reef National Park reported a dead bobcat. The Chief of Resources (Dave) and the Chief Ranger (Scott) went down to take a look-see, and sure nuff, there was a dead and disemboweled bobcat. Probably a mountain lion kill.

Well, in the process of checking it out, they noticed a collar on the little cat's neck, indicating that it was likely part of a study. Ooh, curious. And upon calling the number on the tag, these two Park employees were in for quite the surprise: turns out the "bobcat" was in actuality a lynx--a creature thought never to wander a desert environment such as this southern Utah section. Ooh, curiouser!

This particular lynx was part of the Colorado Lynx Reintroduction Project, which has been releasing the endangered animals into the wild from Creede, Colorado (cute little town), over the past decade. The cool project has its latest update here (August 2008, in pdf format), which is pretty interesting to read.

The lead researcher, Tanya Shenk, drove to the Park to pick up the cat and give an impromptu presentation to very interested Park employees the very next day. Everyone, including the decidedly unscientific me, was quite curious about this unusual event. Neat, neat stuff.

So there you have it. Can lynx be found in desert lands? Yes. Have they wandered around the mountainous areas of southern Utah? Yes. (We got to look at maps that track the cats via satellite and plane fly-overs.) Are they really beautiful little animals with enormous paws and tails that have a black tip, although only on the top? Yes!

This has been your educational tidbit for the day. Hope it was good for you... ;)

is that a lynx I see?

stop the insanity

Aha, she exclaims triumphantly! I have found me more redrock peeps: Red Rock Forest. Check them out.

And there's a call for comments about the bullcrap upcoming land leases in southern Utah. Check out here for the draft environmental impact statement and here for more info on making your voice heard in the rather endless battle to simply protect this gorgeous land. And here's an article in the Salt Lake City Tribune, just to catch you up on it all. :)

On a personal note, I am in moving and writing mania. Babcia is getting stronger, which is exciting. And life is still beautiful here in my own personal red rock nirvana. Can't ask for much more than that...

stop the insanity

new niche

Huh. I just found this article about slow blogging. Oddly enough, it sounds rather similar to what I've been doing with this very blog for the past few years! Ah, having a niche--labels can be so comforting. (I say this only slightly tongue in cheek, of course.)

Okay, I don't think I'm really a "slow blogger," since I like to keep abreast of and post current news about Utah's wilderness, and I certainly blog more often than once every month (or six). But I do also like the allowed possibility of not needing to post multiple times in a day or a week. It sort of seems like I've found the club I want to join.

As for readers, I know I don't have many. But I won't quit blogging on this particular blog for that reason. This one began as a sort of personal journal, and it continues as such at the moment, although I've been toying with the idea of making it much more strictly related to Utah wilderness interests, and leaving off some of the more personal information.

Of course, on that note I have to say that I am back in Utah, somewhat reluctantly, although I have concerns here that absolutely must be dealt with. And it is gorgeous, not all that terribly cold (though I hear rumors of approaching snow in the next few days), and just so much more spacious and fresh and clear and clean than Southern California.

Deep breath of the air here: aaaahhhhhhhh....

Babcia update: Still holding on. Another doctor floated another idea that she perhaps wasn't in so much pain the other few days (that was rather terrible to watch) but perhaps frustrated by how little she could communicate. We just don't really know, which is really frustrating in itself. All healing thoughts still welcomed...

new niche

mama bears

So this is kind of cool: SUWA did a virtual "quilt" involving photos & the voices of women attesting to the importance of the Utah wilderness to them. It had a grand opening at the Salt Lake City Public Library (which is such a cool library! You really need to click on the link back there and see a pic of it), and will be on view there through December. You can also check it out on one of the local newscasts, ksl.com. I wish I could get up to the library myself and see it.

See? Women are indeed mama bears. My grandmother, the other day, looked at me and my mom and my aunt as we stood around her hospital bed, and after three tries she managed to whisper, "How are my children?" Meaning, of course, the women who came of her flesh who were with her just then, lending her our strength as she fights against her internal foes.

mama bears

Red Rock Wilderness Act

So since I'm back on my "save southern Utah's wildlands" bandwagon, I decided to do a little digging into the subject today. First up is more information abut the number one piece of legislature that would be really cool to see passed one day: The Red Rock Wilderness Act. It's been in the works for some time now, and if you click on that link back there you can get more specifics on the history.

One great resource to have (for the diehard, probably) is the book Wilderness At the Edge: A Citizen Proposal to Protect Utah's Canyon and Deserts. Out of print, you can find a copy signed by Wallace Stegner (who wrote the introduction) at Powell's Books. (Again, I say diehard, because the signed edition is $350, and the book really consists of maps, which may look gobbledy-gooky to some.)

Some articles and other information about the proposed Act can be found here, here, and also in some beautiful words by Terry Tempest Williams (who is an amazing writer no matter how you slice it), from Utne Magazine back in 1996.

So many things in the world can make me cry. My grandmother, sick and failing and drugged to senselessness in her hospital bed. The homeless man at the farmer's market the other day who simply, quietly asked for fifty cents as he looked at a steaming hot dinner for sale at a vendor's booth. The puppy that was beaten to death by some sick bastard--the assistant chief of a fire department!--the other day. And, of course, the thought of all the gorgeous lift and fall and swell and shelter of the lands in southern Utah that are even now threatened. People who close their eyes, who close their hearts, who are too fearful to love and so therefore also do not live. I love that land with an abiding passion that dictates my moves and my beliefs and my actions. It's my something to grasp onto, to stand by, to call my raison d'etre.

I do really have hope that this administration will help. That it can listen, and respond in kind. And I'm going to do everything in my power to push along the idea that humans being guardians to this land is an important thing to do, an essential legacy to leave.

I leave you with this:

“The canyons of southern Utah are giving birth to a Coyote Clan—hundreds, maybe even thousands of individuals who are quietly subversive on behalf of the land. And they are infiltrating our neighborhoods in the most respectable ways, with their long, bushy tails tucked discreetly inside their pants or beneath their skirts...They understand that beauty is not found in the excessive but in what is lean and spare and subtle.”
--Terry Tempest Williams, “Coyote's Canyon” from Red

Red Rock Wilderness Act

one step closer to red rock victory?

This article appeared in the Salt Lake Tribune yesterday. This is, of course, a spot of welcome news for anyone who loves southern Utah, or likes it, or visited it once and wants to remember it being pristine, wild, undrilled, unraped, and unviolated in our continuing quest for more more more in our super-sprawl world.

Now, let's get a few things straight here. I was not an Obama supporter. I was not on the Obama-mania insanity train. I did not, nor do I now, think he was the savior of all things American. He is a politician, he is imperfect, he said things in his campaign that were designed to get him elected, and he made promises that probably not even god could keep. I supported Hillary Clinton all the way (yep, she has warts too, but I liked hers better), but had to shrug when she lost the candidate ticket. Don't trust the guy. He's a politician, yo!

I voted Green. Big surprise, no? ;)

However. All that being said, let me then pontificate further and note that Barack Obama appears to be waaaaaaaaaaaaaay better than that doddering, clueless old McCain and that hysteria-inducing joke of a running mate Palin--better, at the least, for the southern Utah wildlands. As the article says, the transition team is already aware of the public sentiment and action taken thus far on preserving this landscape, and the team seems to be interested in taking immediate action on further preservation. As immediate as they can, that is.

A few little things you can do to help:

-Go here and send a message (whatever you think of SUWA, that stirrer of hyped-up emotions, they can lead you to where you can take action);

-Check out the Obama change website to leave a comment about this situation. (Or, of course, any other situation that suits your fancy. Although for my purposes, you'll comment on the Red Rock Wilderness Act.)

-Go out and bop a stupid conservative narrow-minded idiot over the head and hope it encourages him/her to start thinking with his/her heart as well as head, rather than just pocketbook, party lines, or rigidly held and unquestioned religious beliefs. (Okay, don't really do this last one--but, hey, it's fun to dream, eh?)


*Babcia update: she's strong and tough, my grandmother. The pain is hard to watch, and they don't seem to know why it's happening. Can I note again that I am still not a huge fan of Western hospitals, medicine, and our stupidly tangled healthcare system? Too many cooks in her broth, so to speak. And I'm not convinced they're communicating clearly amongst themselves.

one step closer to red rock victory?

space to stretch

Being back in the vast, gorgeous (yes, it can be, believe me or not) sprawl of Southern California is interesting on a variety of levels. But most pressing to both me and Pippin is the amount of space in which we have to stretch. Or rather, the lack of said space.

This being a state of 30 million people, several million of which live in SoCal, there are leash laws, houses pushed up against one another, a mass of lights (my stars have just about disappeared), sidewalks, and just an overall sense of being squished. Pippin, being the good cattle dog that he is, needs LOTS of exercise. Lots! And he ain't getting it right now. So that means I have a spazzy puppy when we do go out. He needs to run, run, run, and play hard.

At the Arroyo Seco recreation area, this great little place of semi-wilderness in suburbia, one would think dogs are allowed off-leash. I remember always taking my dogs there and letting them romp freely. But no longer. Oh, sure, people still do. But I've warned in low tones of the cops who patrol and give out several-hundred dollar fines for the sin of being leashless.

And the main culprit is a bike cop, and bikes aren't even allowed in Arroyo Seco! Not cool.

Anyway, I generally try to be a law-abiding citizen, and I truly understand why leashes are a good thing. Dogs can be intimidating, they can bark and lunge when startled or threatened. There are also horses in Arroyo Seco, and I of all people understand the potential dangers of that combination.

But damn, it's so hard when I have a dog who needs to run lots and hard, and he can't! I'm trying to find a nearby dog park. I heard there's one at the Rose Bowl, so I may check it out. He needs to wrestle hard and tumble freely with another dog.

I too am missing my wide-open desert spaces. I haven't been able to yodel, or run like a maniac, or dance freely in the moonlight here. I suppose I could, but wow, does a crush of people intimidate! Being here right now is lovely in so many ways, and the energy of so many people is immense, and the warm air is pleasant, and there are men I don't actually know who flirt with me--such a novel concept! ;) But I also feel the need to stretch, to move, to shift my muscles underneath my skin and let them breathe. Sitting for hours in the hospital probably hasn't helped either.

Perhaps the lesson here is to make my own space to stretch? Even while in this place where rubbing shoulders with others happens just by inhaling deeply. Hmm...I think Pip and I have to go out now and find our place to stretch and run among the millions here. :)

*Babcia update: holding steady. She was moved to a step-down (less intensive care) room last night, which is really a great sign. But, of course, we are still guarded in our hopes. But still accepting prayers of all sorts...

space to stretch

calling all healing prayers

The unexpected parts of life make for good plot twists in books. In reality, however, they can suck.

My grandmother's in the hospital, has been for about two weeks now. I came to California about 12 days ago to support my mom and see my grandmother as much as possible. It's been really hard. Babcia's hanging in there after two major emergency surgeries, because she's damn tough, but the ultimate prognosis leans toward her passing on to whatever comes next. But it's so damn hard to say, because the multitude of docs (she has a specialist for every part of her body, and then some) each seem to have differing opinions and attitudes. Which is confusing and leads to see-sawing of emotions in the family members.

Anyway. I want to get back to writing here regularly again, and trying to normalize other areas of life, while at the same time continuing through this process and allowing self-examination flow. Do let me note, I never want to be hooked up to tubes and be flattened on my back in a hospital bed for so long, drugged out of my mind with the pain meds. Especially not as an elderly person. I firmly believe some of the nurses and perhaps doctors too do not give elderly people as much of a chance. Everyone expects them to die anyway, right? (Me, sounding bitter.) A family member, mostly my mom, has been in my grandmother's hospital room almost every second, just keeping an eye on things and being with her, whether or not she's aware of it. Someone who loves her and knows her medical history needs to be there to advocate for her.

It's been an eye-opening journey thus far. God, we are so hung up on the young, the vital, the fresh, the new, the pretty. Anything but age, please! That scares us so in this ridiculously puffed-up culture of ours. Especially out here in Southern California, La-La Land, home of the fake and the eternally young. (Me, sounding bitter again, not entirely fairly. This is a diverse place. I just have a touch of myopia right now.)

So, all healing prayers are accepted right now.

In other news: Pippin is having a challenging time adjusting to co-existence with the cats at my mom's place. He has this ingrained need to chase them, if only they would run! But he is also quite respectful of their strong claws and scary hisses, which they use to excellent effect when necessary. Ah, my little Pip. He's growing up! And I still have strong hopes for his future career as a movie dog. He is a darn cute thing, as random strangers often tell me. And being out here galvanizes me to take some action and get him to an audition or somesuch. (Look at me, jumping on the young-and-cute bandwagon after my earlier diatribe. Well, she says in defense, he's a dog, so it's different.)

Will keep you posted on all events...

calling all healing prayers

ahh, fall mornings at 7,000 feet

Fall has been descending on Wayne County in fits and starts this year. The colors appeared on the aspen trees up on the mountain—ooh, aah. Very pretty, of course. But one could still view them while hiking in shorts and a tank top. Nighttime temps dropped a bit, of course, but days were still gorgeous. Then we had our wild winter storm a week and a half ago, in which the wind went crazy as it is wont to do here, it snowed, the clouds scudded through the unforgiving sky, and the wind made that eerie, hair-raising moaning sound when it forced its way through the cracks around one's doors and windows.

Then the temps shot right back up, the wind left, I lounged by the river in shorts in a tank top and was rendered almost comatose by the drowsing sunlight. The sky was crystalline blue, the rocks were glowing red, the air was blessedly still. Loved it.

Then yesterday the freaking wind again. I'm very serious about the WC wind (locals sometimes call it Wind County). It can be horrendous, ridiculous, a howling fiend that knocks over enormous trash cans, rips your car door out of your hands when you open it, and brings flashing images of Kansas and Toto and a little girl in a blue checked dress on her way to the land of those kind of creepy munchkins. I stayed inside.

This morning, my little atomic radio clock read 65.8 degrees F at about 8am. When I stepped outside the house, it definitely felt quite a bit chillier. (Although, thank goodness, no wind.) So I put my trusty little clock outside and left it for about a half hour or so. When I returned to check, it read 35.8 degrees F.

I quickly retreated indoors again. Hooray for warm houses and coffee! Pippin quite agrees, as he is flopped out on his favorite blue chair right now:



Aahh, fall. I must say that 35.8 degrees outside bodes well for my writing this morning. That said, I'm back to it.

ahh, fall mornings at 7,000 feet

plump moonrise

Wow...I was outside at about midnight last night, letting the pup out for his last pee before bed. Got to see the moonrise, which was spectacular.

First, we noticed a 5-point buck (mule deer) and some does standing stock-still in the middle of the dead frozen garden. Pip pointed for a moment, then bolted after the creatures. They bounded away in enormous leaps, of course, having freaking Slinky springs in their legs or something. Pip made sure they were safely gone from "his" property before returning, tail up high. It's deer season right now, so all the smart ones have come into town where they cannot be hunted. Gorgeous.

Then I was treated to the sight of the half-moon rising, hanging low and full and glowing orange-gold on the eastern horizon. So, so beautiful. Classic view, streaked by dark clouds and all. Aahh. I did a little dance of appreciation for getting to see such beauty.

Shiver of joy. These are the moments I truly adore living here! If only I could take good nighttime pictures. That would have been a shot to share. Alas, you'll simply have to imagine it...

plump moonrise

chickens everywhere

I'm housesitting right now. Part of my duties include tending the chickens (plus three ducks and a turkey, which apparently will be someone's Thanksgiving dinner this year).

Chickens are interesting little critters. There are about 20 or so of them here, and they seem to run the gamut of chickendom. There's a crazy-looking one with wild feathers coming out the top of its head and flopping down over its eyes. A rooster that faithfully cock-a-doodle-doos in morning, even if it's still in the little chicken-house because I haven't yet stumbled out of bed to release them into the rising sunlight. There's a very sweet orange-red-creamy-colored one that rushes right up to me whenever I'm in their pen and looks up at me adoringly. Perhaps it's just hungry and wants to see what sort of treats I may have brought. But it's still very sweet in its attempt to communicate with me via Chickenese.

I get to benefit by having as many fresh eggs as I want, warm from sitting under little chicken butts all night long. Pippin already enjoyed one (an egg, not a chicken butt) mixed in with his dry food this morning. Of course, I also have to guard against marauders, such as the rather pleasant-appearing little cat that was just in the pen. The chickens (and ducks and huge turkey) actually didn't seem to mind the cat. I wouldn't either, really, since this particular cat is on the small side, and it really didn't seem at all interested in committing any feline mischief. But just to be on the safe side, I deposited it on the other side of the fence.

Ah, life in the boonies. I need not worry about drive-by shootings, commuters insane with traffic-induced rage, or smog. Nope, all I have to concern myself with is keeping the chickens safe. And then eating their eggs. Bon appetit!

chickens everywhere

that dratted mercury retrograde again

Damn, have the past several weeks been wild and chaotic, or was that really just me? One good thing about NOT having any money in the stock market is that I didn't lose any. However, my other money flows have seemed a bit dry. This particular Mercury retrograde was the biggest, craziest one of the year, and it's a good thing it ends tomorrow. (Though beware reverberations for another several days or so!)

Mercury rules over communication, travel, finances, and mechanical things, among others. Be careful when it retrogrades, because things usually go haywire (see world financial markets as a glaring example). Here's my story from this one:

I ordered a jacket and a pair of running shoes from an online site back in August. I hadn't ordered anything from this site for several years, but they were having a killer sale, 50% off their outlet prices. Couldn't resist. My new goodies arrived promptly, but the shoes, alas and alack, were too large. After waiting around for a few weeks (typical me), I finally boxed them up in early September and sent them back for an exchange. And I waited.

And waited.

And waited.

The first week in October (the retrograde began Sept. 24), I emailed the company and asked if they were going to exchange my shoes ever? They immediately replied, just about falling all over themselves with their "sorries." The shoes would be mailed right away.

Fabulous, I thought, and went about my week.

However, no shoes. Again. Then, oddly enough, I received an email form the company asking me how my shoes were! Interesting. What shoes, I wondered? So last Thursday, I checked the UPS tracking info (love that), and discovered that they had been delivered to "front door" on Monday the 6th.

Huh. I looked at my front door. Nope, no shoes there. Asked the landlords. Nope, no shoes up there. Wow. Bizarre. See, the local driver, Russ, knows everyone around here (not hard considering how small the area is). He certainly knows who I am and where I live. Russ, however, has had some time off and there's been a sub driving.

Aha. I then got even more clever and called UPS to see where, exactly, the substitute driver thought my front door was. And lo and behold, the package had been mailed to the correct address, all right--that is, it was correct about five years ago, when I last lived there. Which was the last time I'd ordered from that company. Meaning they still had that address on file, apparently, and someone got very, very confused (um, a little "retrograded," perhaps?).

Luckily, I know who lives in that place now, so I called them up. Well, plot thickens again. Some years back, when the state got all GPS-happy and mandated street signs for every single dirt road in Wayne County (I kid you not--there are street signs on little dirt roads that lead nowhere, ending after about 200 feet), they also discovered that some of the addresses folks had had for a lifetime were off. So the place I used to live, 4150 1/2, is now 4200. And the other house up that road is now 4150 1/2, and that's where my package ended up.

Still luckily, I also know the people in that second house (yet another benefit of small town life). Mark was surprised to see a package for me--he hadn't looked at it too closely and assumed it was for his wife Mary). And after even more time, I finally ended up at his house and retrieved my package. On October 11, almost two months after I originally ordered my shoes.

And the shoes fit. And I am happy. And that, dear folks, is why Mercury retrograde deserves a wide berth. Because if it can fuck with you, it will.

that dratted mercury retrograde again

ancient pack rat poop

Maybe I just have a thing about poop lately, but this is actually kind of cool on a few counts. First off, a little discussion about pack rats. They apparently are rather intelligent, quick, resourceful, and quite adaptive, considering how long they've been around. They're also the subjects of scientific studies. Little creatures, being picked apart (so to speak--hopefully not literally, unless they're already dead) by highly-educated human minds. We are interested in the strangest things, aren't we?

I've rarely seen the little critters around here--but let me tell you, they are definitely at home in the high desert Southwest. How do I know that for sure? Big, unmistakable piles of pack rat poop, crammed into the nooks and hollows of the rock walls. Like this:Yes, that is a pile--a wet, totally gross pile--of pack rat shit. Interestingly enough (to me, at least), I often find it very near ancient settlements. This pile is dripping from the rocks right by this handprint:
Curious, no? Well, according to my biologist friend Dave, pack rats are known to poop in the same spot their ancestors did--as in, for the last 10,000 years. So the new poop is on top of very old poop, practically fossilized by now.

The mind boggles.

So the next time you're out and about and come across one of these impressive leavings, look around for ancient corn cobs, pottery shards, and rock art. I'm sure the resourceful pack rats lived among the humans for the easy food access, and habit kept them there centuries after the people left. Guess it's better to have one toilet rather than hundreds scattered about...

ancient pack rat poop

homeland, again

On the topic of home again. I ran across a fun article today, from Inside-Outside magazine, a little rag I read all the time in Durango, but which I have not found out here in the back of beyond. The article is about Hanksville, UT, one of the little Wayne County towns. Hanksville is home to--well, read the article and you'll find out. It mentions Mesa Farm Market, a little organic farm with lots of heart in neighboring Caineville. Mesa Market is run by a playful man, who is also a musician, named Randy Ramsley. Several friends work on the farm, including Beth and Tim. They had a hard spring, and there's a Harvest Benefit being held for the farm next Saturday, which I am excited to attend.

There is so much to be said for community--especially when said community is in such a small, isolated, wild area! Pulling together in times of need is so damn important. I am feeling a part of this place again, and I love it. It's odd, actually. I've been a bit of a hermit all summer long, not fully participating in community. Feeling so busy between day job, writing, and personal goals that demanded a lot of solitude and contemplation.

But this is still home. I am home, in my community, no matter how I have been (or not) interacting.

What is home for you? What makes it home? Is it place, is it people, is it ritual and ceremony? Is it familiarity?

Part of home is, for me, a certain knowing that simply makes it so. This is home. And I just know that.

homeland, again