The Christmas Diaries, Part 4

Snowy dawn

Ten Years Ago Today, December 20th

Dawn brought a winter wonderland scene of snow-flocked evergreens and a cloudless sky.  Sometime in the night it had actually warmed up to 16 degrees - a heat wave.  It was clear that at least another inch of snow had fallen during the night, bringing the total  to three or four inches over 24 hours.  There is nothing quite so lovely as a blanket of freshly fallen snow, sparkling in the sun.  It made me think of this same day, ten years ago, the day I arrived in Tucson to take up residence.  This is at odd place to be on that anniversary, at a high elevation cabin in the Colorado Rockies surrounded by snow, but there is a connection.  I’m here with the man, now my husband, who was my neighbor and the first person I met in Tucson, ten years ago today.  As they say, nowhere in my wildest dreams...

Arrival in Tucson, December 20th, 2001

Our cabin retreat, December 20th, 2011

At mid-morning we heard some sort of vehicle, the first we’d heard since our arrival.  We got out the front door just in time to see our neighbor, the site manager of the adjacent retreat, heading back down our drive plowing our road.  This is one of those things I so love about being here at the cabin and in such a remote location.  Neighbors are much more likely to lend a hand, and to do it without being asked or negotiation.  And it all works out.  My husband has helped this neighbor by teaching a few units of science to his home schooled kids, and I’ve baked the cookies that are the post-lesson treats.  We help other neighbors move wood and get hand carved bears in return.  Baked goods change hands, and there’s always a hot cup of tea or cold beer for anyone dropping by.  

Icing

By noon the temperature was just above freezing so we put on a few layers, boots and hats, got the coat on Bump and headed out for a walk.  With the long driveway cleared walking was easy and pleasant, and it felt good to move after being two days in the car and a snowy day inside the cabin.  We headed down the road enjoying our frisky dog’s antics and the warm sun on our backs.  Last summer’s fields of wildflowers were now carpeted in smooth snow, unmarked except for the occasional string of wildlife tracks.  Caps of snow helped define the rocky outcrops.  You could hear the creek gurgling under it’s iced-over top.  

Back at home after an easy two mile ramble it was, at 36 degrees, way too nice to go inside.  We decided to hang our one string of outdoor colored Christmas lights, and made a quick job of it, and still didn’t want to go inside.  I have little experience with snow aside from living in Michigan until I was nine years old, so I am alway surprised how sitting in a sheltered sunny spot in a snowy, near-freezing landscape can be so blissful.  Our south-facing porch is just such a spot on a calm day.  With the afternoon sun low in the sky we sat in sweaters on the Adirondack chairs, basking like lizards, soaking in the sun and were totally comfortable.  Even our once snow-phobic dog settled down in four inches of it just off the deck, laying in the sun.  But the minute the sun got near to setting behind the mountain across the valley, the sun’s rays diffusing through the tops of the pines and firs, we began to feel the chill.

A vegan dinner, the better to have more anniversaries

Retreating inside on this last day of fall, celebrating my arrival in Tucson and our first meeting, we made a dinner of roasted portobello mushrooms stuffed with a savory mix of brown rice, lentils, and cashews mixed with fresh parley and lemon thyme I’d harvested from our Tucson herb garden, and braised brussel sprouts.  We poured some wine and reminisced about the crazy set of circumstances that brought and kept us together.  Neither one of us could have imagined anything more unlikely, or so right.  It almost makes you believe in fate.  We count ourselves very, very lucky.

The Christmas Diaries, Part 3

Let it snow!

Deck the Halls, December 19th  

After a good 8+ hour sleep we woke up to clouds rolling in with the first few tiny snowflakes falling.  Before long the mountain across the valley disappeared in the snow and low clouds, and over the course of the day the snowfall increased, the light powder blowing off the trees and roof in displays of aerodynamic physics.  We put out seed feeders and a suet block for the birds, and didn’t have to wait long for them to show up.  Stellar’s Jays, Mountain Chickadees, White-breasted Nuthatches, Juncos, and and Downy Woodpeckers were soon sheltering in the ponderosa pines near the feeder.  The larger Hairy Woodpecker rode the suet block, hung from our hanging basket hook, like it was a Tilt-a-Whirl.

Bump the Snow Dog, decked out herself!

Homemade soup with Tina's great whole wheat bread

We spent the day reveling in being at the cabin, fortifying ourselves with good from-scratch food like oatmeal with tart dried cherries and toasted walnuts and a sturdy vegetable soup with red lentils and ruffled campanelle pasta eaten with a fantastic loaf of home-made whole wheat bread given to us by our Tucson friend, Tina.  We got out the Kindles and read by the fire, watching the snow swirl outside.  The temperature had descended all day, from 24 degrees at dawn to 11 degrees at bedtime -- and it was hard to get our desert dog, the one with no undercoat, but a real cute over-coat from L.L.Bean, to go outside to do the necessaries.  We all bundled up and took a few chilly walks to the top of the saddle, returning covered in snowflakes, and ready to warm up by the fire.  But we had one other “chore” to get done, one we’d been looking forward to...decking the halls.

Getting started with Frank Sinatra singing carols on the iHome

Last Christmas, for our first stay at the new cabin, we’d brought up a retro-style three-foot tall white Christmas tree with multi-color fairy lights and a tote full off decorations, some new, some old, and most from some fun scavenger hunts at Tucson thrift stores.  We’d loaded some favorite Christmas music on our iPod and played Frank Sinatra for me and John Denver and The Muppets for Bob...our respective traditional tree-trimming music from the days when we shared that job with our children.  With the tree up and decorated, the window sills festooned, and glittery snowflakes hanging throughout the cabin, we broke out some wine, and watched the snow in the fading light, the reflection of our tree hanging specter-like in the front window, merging with the darkening ponderosas outside.  

Finished

We ended the day continuing the Rummikub game we’ve been playing since May of 2006 (our first summer stay at the old trailer); at some point in the distant past I was ahead, but now I am hopelessly behind, but it’s fun and I get whining rights.  My husband is gently triumphant in his near constant victories.  We are nearing the bottom of the second side of the old steno-book page, a relic from Bob’s Dad’s court reporter days, and I wonder if it isn’t time to start anew.  Or, as Bob suggested, we could just get out Blokus and I could whip him consistently for a change.  At least I’m not throwing Uno cards across the table as I have been known to do, albeit with a smile on my face.

Ho, Ho, Home...

The Christmas Diaries, Part 2

Last year's raspberries casting their late afternoon shadows on the snow

Arrival...Sunday, December 18th

We did our typical trying-to-get-somewhere early morning wake-up at the motel, checked in with each other -- “Are you going back to sleep?  Me neither. Let’s go.” -- and were on the road by 5 AM.  We gassed up at Circle K, got coffees, and dug into our friend Geri’s Christmas present of zucchini bread before we’d hit I-25 North.  In the pre-dawn we congratulated ourselves on missing the blizzard that was coming through this area this evening, a blizzard that would, in fact, eventually close Raton Pass, our passage into Colorado.  At first light you could see the snow-chalked ground below the pinon pines and juniper, the white horizontal striping of the mesa ledges.  With some Windham Hill Christmas music collections playing, we watched it get light, enchanted with the snowy scene.  Our excitement mounted with every passing mile.

After a quick stop at our favorite Chinese restaurant in Woodland Park, The May Flower, we went on to Florissant, turned north, and soon hit dirt roads.  They were a bit snow-packed in places, so it was a slow trip in, but beautiful.  It felt like we’d been away for a few days instead of 10 weeks.  When we’d left in early October our neighbor had been fly fishing on the lake below the cabin; now they were ice fishing (and had a beautiful big rainbow trout to show for it) and ice skating through the powder that had fallen over the frozen lake.  

It was all good until we hit our driveway, much of it covered in nearly a foot of snow.  Someone, thank goodness, had driven up fairly recently, so we had their tracks to help navigate the steep, near quarter mile to the cabin.  We made a few runs at it, having to back up a time or two to get further along the unplowed drive.  When the cabin was in sight we decided to leave the car for a bit and hike on up through the snow, anxious to make sure the cabin was alright and that we had power and heat and no frozen pipes.  It proved to be in fine and welcoming shape, relatively warm inside (mid-50’s) thanks in part to the low angle of the sun flooding the cabin with light and the propane heater set to low just to keep the cabin, and its pipes, safe.  

It was great to arrive at a cabin that was fully ready to be occupied.  Both last Christmas and last summer we had either no, or not enough, furniture and there was much moving in and organizing to do.  This time it was turn-key ready, or as turn-key as a cabin like this can be.  We got all the power on, went down in the crawl space and turned on the well pump, checked for leaks, and got a fire going in the wood-burning stove.  My husband went back down the hill and finally managed to get the car up the drive (next time the chains will be put on before trying), and unloaded.  There was a ton of stuff to put away, fire-wood to be hauled up, and totes and duffles to be stowed, but we found time to sit for a short time on the front deck, a bit of a heat trap, where it was, oddly, sweater weather.  It was a mild day with a high in the low 40’s, and we knew the next day would be different, with a predicted high in the 20’s and a few inches of snow.  Perfect!

After an early dinner of some chili I’d made in Tucson and brought up in our cooler, we were in bed by 8 PM -- not so surprising when it gets dark at 5 PM -- and we slept the deep sleep of arriving home after a 900 mile journey.

The Christmas Diaries, Part 1

Somewhere...yawn...along I-25 heading north to Albuquerque

Departure...Saturday, December 17th

After waiting for 10 weeks to return to the cabin, it seemed there was a great deal to do at the last minute.  I’d decided to provision everything we’d need for two weeks before leaving, and when I started packing I wondered if we’d be able to fit it into our Honda CRV.  In the end Bump, our dog, had to be content with just over half of the backseat, and we were on the road early than we’d expected.  The seven hour run to Albuquerque is, frankly, a little boring, but it was good to get there and get settled.  We did have a treat spotting Sand Hill Cranes both flying south and on the ground in open fields along the Rio Grande Valley.  We knew that soon after heading north the next morning, we’d hit the pinon pine forests, rolling hills, buttes and mesas around Santa Fe, and it would be great scenery for the rest of the trip.

Second Home for the Holidays

It is an embarrassment of riches, choosing which home in which to spend the holidays.  It is also a bit of a difficult decision, because both Tucson and the Colorado Rocky Mountain cabin have much to recommend them.

This is how Christmas in Tucson looks

In Tucson we have lots of friends, La Posada, the Pastorella, our giant dried agave flower stalk to decorate, the fun of our volunteer work at the Desert Museum with folks visiting from elsewhere, and the distinct possibility of a sunny and warm Christmas day.  Our traditional New Year's Eve is spent sitting on the west side of Gates Pass, perched on a boulder, watching the last sunset of the year.

This is how Christmas at the cabin looks

This year the cabin is winning out.  We have good friends we are looking forward to spending time with as well as family we hoping to see in Colorado.  We need a cabin fix to see us through until next summer, and its cosy space and wood-burning stove would be most welcome.  We're hoping for a slightly white Christmas and bracing weather (please not the minus 13 we had last year), and enough good days to get out and do some hiking.  Our plans include a Yule Log with our hopes and dreams for the future, as well as some things we'd like to let go, written on notes and attached to be burned New Year's Eve (though midnight is an unrealistic expectation for us).  We're even looking forward to the four days on the road -- we do road trips together well -- and one of our resolutions on that Yule Log will be to do better at the transitioning from one place to another, and to FULLY be wherever we are.

Here are some images of Christmas last year, our first at the cabin:

First dinner guests at the cabin, our dear neighbors from across the lake

The ubiquitous Stellar's Jay, waiting it out near the feeder

A walk in the snow near the cabin

The view from the hilltop behind the cabin

We hope that your holidays are spent where you most want to be with those whose company you most desire.  May the New Year bring you health, happiness, and fulfillment.

From One World to Another

We've been back in Tucson for six weeks now.  I'll admit to having a bit of whiplash with this changing of locations, changing of lives.  Don't get me wrong -- having two wonderful homes in two incredible, and incredibly disparate, environments is fabulously decadent.  It is also a bit over-stimulating, this switching between worlds.  I hope I get better at it.

Blazing aspens in the Colorado Rockies

One moment we were high in the Rockies surrounded by ponderosa pines, firs, spruce, and flame colored aspen.  The next we were streaking across the Navajo reservation at dawn, the subtle golds and sage greens of the high desert working their magic, reassuring me that I did indeed still love arid lands.  Tucson was welcoming, if a little warm, and we were happy to get back to our other "forest", this one of towering saguaros.

Bob dwarfed in our  Tucson saguaro "forest"

During our last couple of weeks at the cabin in late September it was rutting season for the elk.  The nights were filled with the eerie calls of the bulls, exhausting themselves with the work of challenging other males, managing their harems, and mating.  In all the times we'd gone to the trailer, pre-cabin, for a week in late September hoping for aspen and elk, there had never been anything like this, both in fall color and elk activity.  We felt so very lucky.

Elk at dusk in Florissant Fossil Beds National Monument

Culling clothes in Tucson

Returning to Tucson meant reunions with friends, getting back to "work" with our volunteer jobs at the Arizona-Sonora Desert Museum and Saguaro National Park, enjoying (except when it came to cleaning and maintaining) our much roomier Tucson home, and reveling in the convenience of the nearby proximity of groceries, restaurants, theaters, and libraries.  We had a flurry of appointments with everyone from our financial advisor to our dentist.  We've recognized that to be happy actually living in two places, both have to be simple and streamlined, and we're determined to downsize our possessions in Tucson since we can't come to grips with downsizing our home, despite missing our much smaller cabin and the easy life it afforded.  We've also taken time to hike the foothills and washes near our Tucson home, reacquainting ourselves with the fascinating, but more frugal, fauna and flora of the Sonoran desert.

One of six mule deer we spooked out of an arroyo near our Tucson home

The best part of all of this is that we don't have to give up either of the two places we love best on Earth.  We just need to learn to move between them with a little more grace and a little less whiplash.

One last reading session in the hammock at the cabin

We'll get a chance again soon when we leave in four weeks for Christmas once again at the cabin.

Stellar's jay rides out last winter's pre-New Year's snow storm at the cabin

In the meantime, check back soon for some posts of other end of summer activities at the cabin.

One. More. Month.

Changes...

One more month this year.  That’s what I keep telling myself.  That, and that just about any time we feel the urge, we can get in the car and be here the next day.  It’s impossible to believe we’ve been here, and away from Tucson, over three months.  Four weeks from tomorrow we’ll have closed up the cabin and be heading south.  I’m hoping I’m more ready (much, much more ready) when the time comes.  Meanwhile my plan is to make the most of this last month of our inaugural summer in the cabin...the first of many.

Golden mantle ground squirrel harvesting buds on a flannel mullein

Migrating Canada geese stop for some
R&R on Bear Lake before continuing south

No question about it, fall is on the way.  It’s early afternoon and just now barely out of the 50’s, but clear and sunny with the perfect amount of crispness.  The aspen are beginning to turn, usually the leaves changing to a clear yellow, but sometimes a rich orange.  The grasses are ripening and heavy with seed.  The tree squirrels, chipmunks, and golden mantle ground squirrels are frantically harvesting everything from pine and fir seeds to raspberries and buds off the flannel mullein.  Migration has seriously reduced the number of hummingbirds at the feeder (though for those who are still tanking up for their long flights we’ve increased the ratio of sugar to water a bit to help them out) and we are seeing a big increase in raptor action, including a stunning near pass by a ferruginous hawk a few days ago and a close visit by a great horned owl last night, it’s ear tufts silhouetted by the last remnants of the sunset before flying silently to another nearby snag where it tolerated being nagged by a defensive robin before swooping back into the forest.    The first hard freeze is probably no more than two weeks away and a fire in the mornings is suddenly no longer an indulgence, but a necessity, and snow before the end of September is not out of the question.  I’m taking advantage of the chilly day with a pot of homemade baked beans cooking slowly in a low oven for most of the day, and the cabin is filled with the smell of brown sugar, molasses, onions, and smoked ham shanks.

Many local friends have come and gone over the summer, and this Labor Day weekend will mark the end of the season up here at the ranch, and at the retreat that adjoins us.  Over 100 folks are expected at Sunday night’s end of the summer season barbeque and party, complete with entertainment (someone mentioned polka!).  It’s the first time we’ve been up here for this annual event and we’re looking forward to it.  It’s hard to say goodbye to our mountain friends as they, and before too long we, depart...we see more of them in these four months than we do of many of our friends that live a block or two away in our Tucson neighborhood, probably a function of the simple pleasures we indulge in here and a lack of extraneous entertainments that so distract us back in the city.  Shared meals, weekly game nights, group hikes, the outdoor Sunday services, and pitching in to help each other have formed close ties, some of them unexpected, some several years long now and very dear to us.

Teacher Bob, his five charges, and one mom

As summer nears its end, it also means back-to-school time.  The two families who manage the retreat have five elementary school-aged kids between them, all boys (one lone girl, still a toddler, will have a challenging future with this group).  They are all home schooled by their able and devoted parents, but this year my husband (with his three degrees in science) is teaching them a section of science each week.  Last week they gathered for their first lesson with Bob, and the subject was bugs, a favorite with just about all kids, and these boys were no exception.  They all headed off to the spring at the back of our five acres and were rewarded with finding long thin white horse-hair worms living in the muck.  They headed to the lake down the hill and found loads of bugs and aquatic insects, including a dragonfly nymph.  All the while they were learning bug basics, and another neighbor who was a life-long educator and is working with the parents on skills for teaching reading, provided vocabulary lists for follow-up work.  When they returned from the lake with their jar of mud-clouded water, complete with a plethora of tiny critters all doing the backstroke, freshly made cookies awaited those with freshly washed hands.  Homework was assigned -- a drawing of a bug and a collection of five different bugs to be delivered this coming week, when the topic will shift to birds.  All involved enjoyed it, but no one more than Bob.  Four more weeks, four more topics.

Four more weeks, a dozen or more hikes.  Four more weeks, a temperature drop of 20 degrees or more.  Four more weeks, four more game nights.  Four more weeks, one more full moon,