The View from Here

May 25th

We drove over 800 miles, 14 hours, in two vehicles, to reach our friends in Colorado Springs.  Thankfully they welcomed us with a garage to park the loaded truck in, dinner, and a comfy bed.  The next day they followed us up Ute Pass to our place in the Rockies, bringing their dogs to show our dog the ropes of being unleashed in the mountains.  It worked.

Our contractor, Brian, is away fetching his son from college in Spokane, so we’ve had a few days to settle in, acclimate, take a hike or two, and do some tidying up around the building site -- a chore we begged for.  We have a gorgeous foundation, concrete pouring into insulating forms of styrofoam connected with plastic strapping, sort of like giant Lego’s.  Brian has worked hard to keep the cabin low to the ground instead of perched on the site.  The foot wide cylindrical piers are poured for the deck footings, and the wood is onsite to build the subfloor.  By the end of the week we’ll be able to walk around our cabin. 

It is heaven to be here.  The pines, fir, and spruce look fabulous; so green from a wet winter.  The aspen buds are opening to fill the space between the evergreens with a spring green mist of new leaves.  The kinnikinnick, more often than not what is underfoot, is covered with tiny pinched white and pink bell flowers which will eventually give way to glossy red berries.  Tiny white asters, minute white and yellow daisy-like flowers brighten hillsides in small patches.  Today’s hike yielded strawberries leafing out, some with flowers, and a small bouquet of tiny violets in a damp spot on the “around the block” trail (a two mile loop behind us into Pike National Forest).  But the most exciting wildflower has been the lovely pasqueflower, pale violet teardrop shaped heads that open to a startling white six pointed flowers with a spectacular yellow center.  I have never seen the flowers before -- we’re always been too late for these early bloomers -- and have only been able to wonder at the spidery hair-like remnants after the petals are gone.

We had some crazy winds yesterday.  We’re guessing there were gusts of over 50 miles per hour.  The wind screamed around the trailer, rocking it like a cradle at the hands of an angry nanny where it now sits up on the saddle, more exposed than where it sat for years on the cabin site.  We lost power for hours and when we decided to get in the car and go see how extensive the outage was, we first had to fire up the chainsaw to clear a tree that had come down on our long driveway.  It became obvious that this was a sizable outage, with many trees down, often taking power lines with them.  After being blocking on one road, we managed to get to our friends Fran and Don’s cabin high up the far side of the valley.  Last time we’d seen them was September.   They’d come for brunch and we were squeezed into the tiny dinette of our trailer while it sleeted and snowed outside.  We caught up with them while enjoying heat from their wood burning stove, and gazing at their breath-taking view of a snow-clad Pike’s Peak.  

Aside from being a bit more subject to the winds, the trailer is also now far from the outhouse, probably about an eighth of a mile, a good long block away.  I’m not complaining as it is terrific exercise (even get some uphill in on the way back) and Bump usually accompanies me.  I will confess to using some nearby conifers after dark.  It is convenient to the building site, however Brian tells us that it will have to be disabled prior to getting a certificate of occupancy for the cabin per a new regulation.  We think we’ll simply bang a board across the one holer, and retain this historic structure for a tool shed.  We’ve already installed some art!

It’s been fun to watch our desert dog turn into a mountain dog.  Four days ago she didn’t know how to navigate stairs, was never walked off leash, and had never seen a pine tree.  Now she’s negotiating the metal trailer steps with ease and is living off leash and making little nests for herself in the mulchy soil underneath the ponderosas.  She’s enough out of her element to stick close by, but confident enough to lead the way on hikes and cavort in the streams and creeks that abound here.  Instead of learning to avoid stepping on cholla cactus segments, she is getting savvy about not walking on the tiny Douglas fir cones that are just the perfect size to get wedged in the pads of her paws.  Our dear old dog Max, gone just over a month ago, road shotgun with me from Tucson, his ashes filling a quart sized white plastic box.  He would have loved it here, and Bump seems to be enjoying it enough for both of them. 

Today the sun is warm, the air cool and perfect for a long-sleeved tee if you’re working, and a light fleece if you’re slacking.  We’ve been getting things done, but also taking time to walk, read, and talk about the cabin project and our future years with many months spent in this idyllic forest.  We’re quite excited about our contractor arriving back on site tomorrow, probably with his son to help, and Bob will get to spend the next three and a half weeks building a new cabin where the old A-frame once stood.

The sky is a deep China blue.  Fluffy innocent white clouds drift by overhead.  The crisp air is filled with the sharp clean scent of pine.  Life is very good.