Christmas in Wyoming

"It is all very beautiful and magical here--a quality which cannot be described. You have to live it and breathe it, let the sun bake it into you. The skies and land are so enormous, and the detail so precise and exquisite that wherever you are you are isolated in a growing world between the macro and the micro, where everything is sideways under you and over you, and the clocks stopped long ago."
--Ansel Adams

Eden, Wyoming

The Ansel Adams quote that graces the opening page of my new 2012 datebook says a lot about the feel of my Teton Christmas. But it also says a lot about my life right now--a quality that cannot be described. So lately as you've noticed, the blog has been thin.

But I did, in fact, drive the trusty Kingfisher across Wyoming to spend the holiday with my friend Holly at Grand Teton National Park. Because her days off were before Christmas, and a storm was coming in, I drove early and had perfect weather on my way up. Alas, in the end, I didn't get as much pure Holly time as I'd hoped--but for good reason. Much of the time I was there her delightful boyfriend Dan was also around, as well as his very enjoyable children and friends. I cooked and cooked and cooked, which made me happy too. I stuffed the turkey with chicken sausage. I imagine that just like only an Easterner would think to put a cow skull on the front of her car, only a vegetarian would think to stuff meat with meat (oh wait, Romania). Anyway, it worked.

Those on my facebook have heard the snowplow story, but it's worth repeating. Our Christmas morning (Thursday), after we devoured a pound of premium bacon, Dan's son Garrett made us delicious waffles from a gluten-free mix I'd taken. We dressed them with butter, cherries, maple syrup, and whipped cream. Just sitting down to enjoy them, we noticed the snow plow coming around the road through park housing where Holly lives. Oh good, the snow plow (massive snow-blower type that shot the snow 50 feet into the air). But then they noticed that he was blowing out driveways and immediately we dropped our waffles, ran outside, and moved our cars out of the driveway so he could do ours. The kids stayed inside and made sure the dogs didn't eat our waffles.

Above, Holly's little house. Below, the view out the window.

Holly and Popcorn.

We experienced two exquisite nature moments during my stay. Christmas Eve day Holly and I went to the post office to retrieve the box from her Mother. Driving home we saw a bald eagle circling in the sky. I labeled her (or him) our Christmas Eagle. Then later that night, very late, I walked outside and looked at the stars. I said I would stay out until I saw a meteorite or I got cold. Being Wyoming, I got cold pretty fast (-12). But yes, Ansel Adams, the clocks stopped long ago.

Too soon I had to pack the car and head home. Rode a tail wind home across Wyoming on Monday. I'd been warned about strong winds and drifting snow on 80, but Wyoming has so little snow that it was not a problem. Arrived home to yet more thoughtful and generous gifts--received so many nice things I'm a bit overwhelmed--all my favorites: books, coffee, tea, chocolate, snuggly knit things, music, dishes...As I get lamer about gift giving, my loved ones just get lovelier. (there's always next year).

And now New Years. No resolutions, just plans. And they will wait a few more days. In the meantime, I am nestled into a bed of stars out on a cold high plain. In my vision, it is a combination of stepping out of Holly's door on Christmas Eve and of lazing in a tub of hot water in the Saline Valley in the California Desert. Deep night, endless stars, warm hearts. Once again the incredible gift of spending time with a dear friend, living it and breathing it while we can.

I Like My Life

I like my life. I like my job. I like my boss. I like the man I’ve pegged to be my next boss (returned Peace Corps Volunteer). I like the woman who sits over the cubicle wall. I like it when she plays Christmas jazz. I like my desk and my workspace. I like my Christmas decorations and sharing clementines with the staff. I like the way my fake cinnamon-scented pine cones smell.

I like making tea for co-workers who drop by. I like my tasks, especially the big annual report I’m responsible for. I like the way everybody else is grateful that they don’t have to do the annual report. I like having NPS friends who are more talented and experienced than I am who will help me. I like doing the plaid report during our Monday meetings, the percentage of people in the room wearing plaid—usually over 50% for the men, under 50% when the women are factored in. I like that I get to go to the meetings but it generally doesn’t matter if I drift off and do a plaid report in my head. I like when difficult questions arise, such as: does argyle count as plaid? I like being appreciated for my skills and work ethic (plaid report aside). I like getting paid.

I like my apartment. I like that heat is included in the price, so I can keep it as toasty as I like and not worry. I like my new bed. I like that I have a real bed again. I really really like my new bed.

I like my clothes. I like to wear skirts these days. I like to wear brown tights every day—I have six pair, some with feet and some without that I wear with the cowboy-style boots I like. I like my big kitchen and my big cooking pot. I like to make soup or lentils or a mushroom quinoa. I really like to make and drink my delicious Chiapas cooperative coffee. I like not eating gluten. I like washing my dishes in hot water.

I like having free time to do the things I enjoy. I like to sit on my little sofa and play my guitar (which I think I more than like). I’m really liking singing Iris DeMent and Kate Wolf this week. I like reading books. I like watching my Netflix movies. I like receiving High Country News again.

I like Fort Collins. I like doing my laundry on Saturday morning and going to the Whole Foods for the yogurt I like during the wash cycle. I like listening to Wait Wait on the satellite radio in my car during the dry cycle. I like the Saturday Winter Farmers Market in Old Town where I can get squash, chard, beets, leeks, and purple kohlrabi…and a yummy local camembert. I like that last week I had two evening outings with coworkers. I like that next week I can go to the library for a lecture about the altiplano.

I like that with all the deliveries I’ve had lately—Fedex, UPS, USPS—I never worry that they are left on my doorstep all day and might get stolen. I like that we have a community college where I think I can take continuing ed Spanish next semester. I like that when I am settled (January, I like to think), I will have no problem finding interesting volunteer opportunities.

I like art. I liked today’s local performance of the Nutcracker quite a lot,

especially since it included performances by one of my plaid-wearers and his entire talented family. I liked something I read in the NYTimes yesterday about movies that most people don’t get. I like that they addressed the ongoing debate about art-movies-as-vegetables (ie, you need to eat them to be healthy, but…), but then decided that movies that are hard to understand, such as Tree of Life and Meek’s Cutoff, are in the end not vegetables, maybe not even movies, but simply art. I liked both Tree of Life and Meek’s Cutoff. I like art. I like that Christo’s next project is on a river here in Colorado in 2014.

I like my Sunday afternoon Buddhist group. I like that they always serve tea and cookies after we meditate together. I like sitting and holding and smelling my tea surrounded by a nice group of people all on the same path. I like that I’ve put my little mindfulness reminders up around the house. I like that I attempt to meditate every morning, even if my mind goes to the moon.

I like getting up and going to work. I like coming home and going to bed. I like starting the work week. I like having a weekend.

I like my life.