Pandemic

Written as a FB post 3/2020

My former coworker texted me today to see how I was doing… We’ve stayed in fairly frequent touch since we were fired and we keep tabs on our job searches and how we’re fairing.

I thought about that question for a moment and then replied that I felt anxious, weirded out, worried sick and exhausted. She agreed and we both hope our unemployment insurance gets extended as we’re both due to lose it this month. With jobs gone, my businesses tanking and money stress looming it’s scary to lose the only safety net we had.

A little later this afternoon, I spent time outside doing yard work and puttering about. It was a stunning day today; sunny, relatively warm and not a cloud in the sky all day. The birds were mobbing my feeders, and I was surrounded by the chatter of red-winged blackbirds, goldfinches, house finches, Juncos, chickadees and the ubiquitous house sparrows and collared doves. At one point I heard Sandhill cranes croaking in the distance, killdeer keening from my pasture and a curious crow carefully followed my progress from the top of a tree in the yard and narrated his observations to his friends. It felt so very normal for spring and yet… It isn’t.

All day I felt an impeding sense of doom and things feel very different to me. I had to go to the grocery store for my weekly shop earlier in the day and I was edgy and unhappy there. I was paranoid about everything I touched and raced to the car to spray my hands with rubbing alcohol. Then I wondered about my bags, the contents inside, who had touched what, did I need to clean things off? Some people seemed normal, others gave me a wide berth as we sort of watched each other cagily and suspiciously, are you infectious? I constantly caught myself about to push a lock of hair from my face, adjust my glasses… No! Don’t touch your face!! It was just weird.

I think there’s likely a general malaise and anxiety all around… I see it in friends and on FB, I hear it from family when I talk to them, and my clients when we meet. I feel like I’m waiting for the storm front to hit and yet there’s no tangible sign. I expect the skies to darken, the wind to pick up so we can batten down the hatches and ride it out but it’s a silent, invisible foe… That’s unsettling and unnerving. And while it marches steadily closer to all of us, nature follows her ancient rhythms oblivious to our preoccupations. Birds are migrating North, the days are lengthening and the renewal and rebirth we should feel with the onset of spring is a complete paradox to how we are feeling.

Tonight I had the back door open, sun streaming through the screen door. I bustled about prepping food for my indoor dog and cat family of 10, adding supplements, medications etc, as they patiently waited… It all felt so normal, everyday, and grounding. They have no idea what we are all worrying about. They all had a wonderful day out in the sun and wanted their food. Their lives haven’t changed a bit yet (and hopefully won’t) but ours have. Maybe forever, as I worry this virus will touch everyone of us directly or indirectly.

How do you fight an invisible enemy? Of course social distancing, quarantine, limit exposure, travel etc… But how do you handle the mental effects? How do you manage the fear, anxiety, worry, the unknown? How do you balance normal with abnormal? How do you live in the shadow of this thing? How do you prepare for the future when we don’t know what it holds? How do you plan financially when you stand to lose it all? Then what?

This is heavy stuff for all of us… It’s unchartered territory and is both uniting and dividing us. My heart goes out to each and everyone of you who is struggling right now. I have no advice… I have no previous history or knowledge to draw from. None of us do. I think it’s literally one step at a time and one day at a time. Reach out to friends and loved ones, stay connected. Be generous, unselfish and kind. Live. Because that’s all we can do at the moment. That may be the only way we fight back.

Love, light and hugs, from a respectful distance away, to all of you 💜

No Tresspassing

I have logged thousands of hours and thousands of miles over the years on the trails with my dogs. I love hiking with them, more than anything else, as they are my eyes and ears, companions, trailblazers and protectors. I hiked a new area today that I have always wanted to explore but it is a solid hour hike to get up in there and many days I don’t have the time or motivation.

The forest was beautiful, scrubbed clean by yesterday’s rain, quiet and soft. It was worth the hard hike in, as the forest there was magically beautiful; knobby rock outcrops punctuated by rolling hills, clinging to the mountainside, and verdant bowls filled with gnarled old trees, moss and very green grass, despite how dry it has been. The wildlife are all there, as it is on the edge of where most humans travel and so they are alone there. I saw signs of deer, elk, bear, wolf, marten and heard a variety of birds. As we rambled and explored, I crossed over a ridge line and stumbled on to a well used wildlife trail as I side-hilled across the mountain face. We followed it for a long while, and it didn’t go unnoticed that the trail was punctuated with wolf and bear scat. The farther South I hiked, the more subdued the dogs became, until they were grouped in a bunch behind me, quiet, alert, heads and ears up, tails low. They were jumpy and on high-alert, and Elf and Spring erupted into barking when we flushed and startled a flock of feeding juncos. As I rounded a bend and began down into a beautiful lush drainage, I came upon a huge, stately Ponderosa Pine; thick orange bark stretched tightly over its immense trunk and the ground beneath littered with years of detritus shed by the giant, topped with debris from being used as an ancient squirrel midden. Here was fresh sign of scratching, marking and digging and among many old piles of scat, was fresh wolf sign. It was at this point that whatever signs the wild creatures had left visible to me, it was clearly a far more obvious, neon sign to my dogs saying: NO TRESPASSING BEYOND THIS POINT! And there they stopped, as one, and refused to go farther. I even continued on for 30 to 40 feet and they did not move.

Turning around on single track trails is always difficult for me as the lure of what lies ahead carries too much temptation, but there was no question the dogs knew far more than I and so, we turned, and began the long hike back out. It was almost a mile before they relaxed and almost two, before they resumed running and exploring. The trail will wait for another day and I am so curious as to what lay beyond that sentinel tree…clearly something my dogs knew and respected and clearly something that I knew better than to ignore. Now they are sated from a big meal, chewing on meaty bones, and tired from a long day on the go, but they are safe and content, and that is worth everything to me.

Late Summer

• 

Although the forests are always a welcome escape from day-to-day life, August is never a favorite time of year for me. The newness of spring and early summer has passed, and it has aged beneath heat and lack of rain to become a dying landscape. The electric green that infused every part of the forest has faded to a patchwork of brown and tired green. The flowers that carpeted the floor with stunning colors and filled the forest with their tantalizing aroma, are done with their kaleidoscopic glory, but their skeletal remains cling to withered stalks and rattle in the breeze, as they try to gamely hang on. The trails alternate between being hard baked and incredibly dusty. Every footfall creates a small cloud of dust that clings to my ankles and legs and turns beautiful white dog feet to a dull, flat grey. It is largely silent in the forest as well, birds that filled the forest with stunning song, full of hope and love, have fledged their young and are busy teaching them the ropes, and prepping for migration.

The dryness is enervating and the heat makes walking an effort. The dogs tire quickly, and forego their normally carefree play, to prevent over-heating and to save their energy. The creeks we cross are always very welcoming, an oasis of greenery and life. The dogs always surge forward as one, to jump in the still frigid water, paddle around, lie down or just stand soaking in the water and letting it soothe away the hot day. These stops along the way always re-energize them and they blast out of the water invigorated and turbo-charged, chasing and wrestling one another as they become puppies again for a short time.

All around hints of fall intrude. Weary shrubs fight death with hues of red that hint of the colorful glory of fall. Large rocks lay upturned by dexterous bear paws, who have upended the secret lairs of insects, unwittingly becoming a meal; fuel for many a cold day to come. Early in the day a chill rides the upslope winds warning the forest denizens that complacency in the heat will leave them struggling when autumn lowers the boom. A hush of anticipation hangs tangibly among the stately trees. It is coming…. Fall. With it, comes the start of hunting season, as hunters spread out among the landscape brining death with them. For those who survive man’s lethal raids, winter will follow and cover the landscape in her icy unforgiving grip and make mere survival a struggle.

I think it is the hush of anticipation that nudges my soul, makes me feel a bit anxious and shadows every step. It’s knowing the animals that will suffer and fall on the killing fields that we force upon them, and the hardships they will face through winter. Knowing the ephemeral, gentle beauty of spring and summer is gone and from here on, only the toughest will survive. That knowledge dodges every step, whispers among the dry vegetation and hangs among the silence in the forest, until itself becomes a drumbeat of time, dodging my every step, marking my passage. It’s coming…

Heavens Above

The sky is truly a blank canvas….an empty space for the artist to unleash a palette of colors and eclectic expressions upon, It’s a muse for the writer and poet to fill the empty void with magical words, it’s a stage for a grand performance unequaled by any mortal play, and inspires even the meekest souls to dream and hope. It unites us and divides us, but covers us all in its arching star-studded cloak, inspiring awe at its infinite depths and the worlds that lie beyond its tangible presence. It’s fire and ice, fury and serenity, darkness and light, and has captivated us for eons…. and will for many to come. It’s home and safe in its familiarity, grounding us in contrast to its lofty perch and stunning in its ever-changing moods. The sky is full of dreams and wishes, confessions and vulnerabilities and binds us to this amazing earth with its benevolence and fury…. It’s part of all of us and in that quiet moment looking up in to that huge empty space, it becomes endless in possibility.

Fairy Land

I was born in Switzerland, and although I was very young when we moved to the states, I remember a lot about our lives there. So many vivid memories have stuck with me throughout my life and occasionally circle through my mind like a slideshow compilation of short movie clips.
I remember long treks up mountains to sit among glacial formed alpine bowls, cooling our feet in frigid, clear streams and playing in the lush, green grass. I remember winter trips heading deep into the forest in our car and then abandoning it to ride sleds down a long trail through the woods and landing, after night fall, at a small cabin where we entered into blissful warmth and were treated to freshly made fondue. I remember spring time and the village cows as they straggled in a wobbly line and shuffled slowly and persistently through our village, past our house, and then up into the mountains to summer pasture. In the fall they would filter down out of the craggy peaks and once again become a herd that flowed back down through our village, large cow bells swinging from thick necks and ringing out in a discordant symphony as they made their way back to their winter homes. I remember fields of wildflowers in spring and summer, winter ski trips in whiteout conditions, and fall illuminated by brilliant yellow larch.
One of my most vivid memories though was a trip my sisters and my father took up in to the mountains to collect pine cones for our winter fires. We traveled tiny dirt roads clinging to the mountains faces and winding in to the deep dark forests, where my father let us sit on his lap and steer the car. The magic of being able to drive the car and then wander on foot through sacred-feeling, stately conifer forests was awe inspiring for us little ones.
As we moved among the trees, picking cones as we went, we came to a magical clearing. The forest floor was covered in thick moss, that was brilliant green and more cushioned and softer and even some of the best beds. Little toadstools protruded from the moss, punctuating it’s otherwise perfect surface. It was here my father told us in a hushed, reverent whisper, that the fairies came to play. He told us they emerged on moonlit nights and sat upon the toadstools while they sang, ate and celebrated under the silver light with the other forest creatures. I have never forgotten the images from that adventure that were pressed in to my mind, and to this day, I still think of that clearing, Fairy-Fairy land, whenever the moon sits high in the sky and bathes the valley below in its shimmering, silver light.
Last night with a full, blood, wolf moon, an eclipse on the horizon, and the beauty of the Bitterroot Valley bathed in that perfect, ethereal silver light, I thought it was an ideal fairy night. I thought of that clearing thousands of miles away, probably still unchanged to this day, full of light and laughter and mystical creatures celebrating the beauty of nature and the benevolence of the moon. I hope that’s a memory that continues to stay with me and that one day I can step back in to that clearing and feel it’s magic once again. Until then, every full moon night, I sleep with my curtains open and let a little bit of that magic shine down upon me, while I snuggle down in to my covers, to give in to deep sleep, and dream of another world, another time and the magic that exists among us if only our minds and Imagination will allow it.

Night Serenade

As a result of Elf’s predilection for a tasty pile of horse poo yesterday, I was awakened at 2 am by him last night for a bathroom request. I hauled myself out of my cozy cat-studded nest and lurched ungracefully outside with Elf, and Bounder in tow, who couldn’t resist going with us for a little night patrol.

It was cold, with a raw, stiff breeze knifing in from the north, pushing and bumping past me and making my previously warm pajamas feel like woefully inadequate dress for the weather. I shivered and hunkered a little deeper in to my old barn coat as I shuffled farther out in to the yard to wait for the dogs. The clouds were patchy and racing with the wind, revealing ever-changing windows to the night sky above; stars like a shimmering blanket of diamonds twinkled brightly and merrily playing hide and go seek with the clouds.

As I stood in the quiet, stillness I became aware of a distant sound riding upon the wind… Snow geese. Hundreds and hundreds of them, far aloft, above the clouds and winging south on the wicked north wind, chattering and calling to one another as they flew through the stormy darkness. I stood transfixed… Listening, hearing and imagining. Wave after wave of birds moved over me as I stood staring up above me as if they would materialize from the clouds and darkness to where I could see them.

Eventually Bounder and Elf finished their doggie businesses and came to stand with me, listening also to the distant cries aloft. The cold wind and lure of my warm bed broke my trance and the dogs and I headed back in to warmth of the house and made our way back to the escape of sleep.

Today as dire and depressing news about our environment, animal extinction, poaching, unethical hunting and wildlife slaughter filled my news feed, tragic images have raced through my head but I have circled back to last night’s magical moment where I stood beneath hundreds of migrating geese alone in the stillness and was so priveledged to witness a march of time that has continued for eons…. The passing of the seasons, cycles of nature, mass migrations…. I feel so incredibly fortunate to still live where wildlife is gamely hanging on, following cycles followed for thousands of years before man entered the stage and began a killing rampage. I cannot help worry nights like last night may end in my lifetime and for every species that falls to extinction, our human existence becomes further jeopardized. Heavy stuff to contemplate and depressing for my little brain.

I never thought I’d say this, but thanks Elf for the wake up call last night.

Night Ride

There is a change palpable in the air tonight. After a number of unseasonably warm days, there is a storm coming that will plunge us well below freezing. The clouds are stacking up against the mountains to the west, there’s a cold wind blowing, and the air fells heavy and pregnant. Tonight I took the dogs for a 3-4 mile mountain bike ride, by headlamp, for a breeze out on the dirt road through the wildlife refuge. The darkness enveloped us and my headlamp illuminated only a small halo ahead of me. The dogs weaved and bobbed in and out of the light ahead and along side of me as they ran and the blinky lights on their collars flashed like errant fireflies. The wind pressed in to us, pushing rlentlessly into me and pulling the air from my lungs. It rustled through the dried grasses and ruffled the dogs’ coats. Between the wind gusts, I could hear the chuffing of panting dogs and their soft, padded footfalls, the hum of my tires on the road and the occasional cries of geese coming in to lay over on the refuge ponds for the night. As we neared the end of our ride, the first rain drops began to fall, streaking through my light like small meteors. We escaped their strikes and took refuge in the car to head home to our warm cozy house, to wait out the arrival of the storm.

Autumnal Reverence

Autumn is a time of contrasts. It is brilliant color against a drab, dying background, it’s dark, ominous clouds trailing veils of rain or snow, contrasting with brilliant, warm sunshine. It is brilliant, bright light fading to steely grey days and the shadows in times of transition racing over an ever-changing landscape. It’s warm friendly days rapidly changing to raw, bone-chilling days. There’s a sense of ominous urgency to nature in autumn. Birds that haven’t migrated yet or are stopping to refuel on their long trips are in busy feeding frenzies so they can gain strength and calories to continue to power south. Bears fueled by hyperphagia drop to the valley floor searching for anything edible to add to their reserves for a long winter’s hibernation, and often get in trouble when they bump in to human’s rules and regulations. The forest seems to be paused in anxious anticipation as hunters stream to the woods, ponds, lakes and fields armed and ready to kill. The deer and elk are very spooky and jumpy, geese wing through the chilly air chattering and arguing as they circle endlessly looking for a safe place to alight and feed; nature seems to be in suspended animation…waiting for hard, lean times to come.
And through it all, my dogs and I move quietly, trying not to stress or disturb the forest denizens, taking in everything and feeling the reverential awe that only the grandest of cathedrals can command. It’s a time of change, of death, for many, and a time to face what winter has in store for us. It’s a time to feel the march of time; one’s insignificant role in seasonal changes that has gone on for eons and will continue to do so long after we’re gone. It’s a time to reflect, let go, embrace the beauty of the earth around us, and like many of the animals, birds and insects, prepare for colder, darker days to come. Slowly, inexorably, winter will take the reins from fall and power its way to center stage where we will be patiently waiting for the next performance.

Tresspassing

I have logged thousands of hours and thousands of miles over the years on the trails with my dogs. I love hiking with them, more than anything else, as they are my eyes and ears, companions, trailblazers and protectors. I hiked a new area today that I have always wanted to explore but it is a solid hour hike to get up in there and many days I don’t have the time or motivation. The forests were beautiful, scrubbed clean by yesterdays rain, quiet and soft. It was worth the hard hike in, as the forest there was magically beautiful; knobby rock outcrops punctuated by rolling hills, clinging to the mountainside, and verdant bowls filled with gnarled old trees, moss and very green grass, despite how dry it has been. The wildlife are all there, as it is on the edge of where most humans travel and they are alone there. I saw signs of deer, elk, bear, wolf, marten and heard a variety of birds. As we rambled and explored, I crossed over a ridge line and stumbled on to a well used wildlife trail as I side-hilled across the mountain face. We followed it for a long while, and it didn’t go unnoticed that the trail was punctuated with wolf and bear scat. The farther South I hiked, the more subdued the dogs became, until they were grouped in a bunch behind me, quiet, alert, heads and ears up, tails low. They were jumpy and on high-alert, and Elf and Spring erupted into barking when we flushed and startled a flock of feeding juncos. As I rounded a bend and began down into a beautiful lush drainage, I came upon a huge, stately Ponderosa Pine; thick orange bark stretched tightly over its immense trunk and the ground beneath littered with years of detritus shed by the giant and topped with debris from being used as an ancient squirrel midden. Here was fresh sign of scratching, marking and digging and among many old piles of scat, was fresh wolf sign. It was at this point that whatever signs the wild creatures had left visible to me, it was clearly a far more obvious, neon sign to my dogs saying: NO TRESPASSING BEYOND THIS POINT! And there they stopped, as one, and refused to go farther. I even continued on for 30 to 40 feet and they did not move. Turning around on single track trails is always difficult for me as the lure of what lies ahead carries too much temptation, but there was no question they knew far more than I and so, we turned, and began the long hike back out. It was almost a mile before they relaxed and almost two, before they resumed running and exploring. The trail will wait for another day and I am so curious as to what lay beyond that sentinel tree…clearly something my dogs knew and respected and clearly something that I knew better than to ignore. Now they are sated from a big meal, chewing on meaty bones, and tired from a long day on the go, but they are safe and content, and that is worth everything to me.

Hallowed Ground

There is a place on the fringes of where I frequently hike that has a magical, mysterious quality. The forest is lush and quiet, devoid of the constant noises of busy birds and squirrels and has an almost reverent quality about it; It’s a cathedral with tall stately trees, lush undergrowth and that unique feeling of peace and awe. It’s very different from the more open, drier forests to the North I don’t hike out there often but as I cross a small stream and head in to those secret woods, I always feel like I am moving into sacred ground. The dogs always behave differently, they cease their running and playing and walk very close to me, ever alert and often balking at continuing farther down the few faint trails that disappear off in to the trees. They stop often to stare into the forests as if they are watching something, heads moving along the landscape or turning suddenly as something that I never see, catches their eye.
We went there today and moved quietly through those beautiful trees, the dogs were quiet and watchful and we turned around when they wouldn’t continue with me into the depths of the forest. I stopped and sat upon a moss covered rock to have some water and a quick snack and the dogs surrounded me, sitting on the thick pine needles, watchful and alert. Elf suddenly turned, looked to the North and stared. He stood, loose tail curling up towards his belly as he backed up, moved behind me and sat tensely. I stood in alarm, but saw nothing…no movement, no sound, nothing. I don’t know what gives this part of the forest such darkness and mystery, but my dogs know. It is beautiful and peaceful there but has another intagibly complex feel to it….something lurks there that the dogs sense, be it animal or spirit but I’ve never seen it. I feel it and am grateful for the proximity of the dogs and despite the wariness it gives me, I feel inexplicably drawn to the mystery and peace the endless forest holds. It was a beautiful summer day, today, and a wonderful escape to play in the forest but the darkness and secrecy those hallowed woods hold will stay with me for some time. I’ll be back to pay my respects and to visit again as its mystery draws me strongly in and maybe, one day, will reveal itself