Red Mountain

That big ol’ bird circlin’ had white patches on its underneath, musta been a golden eagle and not that you could tell a bald from a golden when they was young like that this warnt where a bald eagle autter live and sides back in the day a her granpappy there warnt no bald eagles round here no how but they’s comin’ back now but not out in the dry lands. And she found herself a little holler to tuck down out of the wind to eat her lunch. Momma had packed her a biscuit, sliced open and put in a slice of sidemeat from yesterday’s supper and she know’d momma wanted to send her off with a little meat for her long journey and the boys woulda complained if they know’d about it but they could get them a little meat for their dinner from the missus who served meals down at the mill and it warnt good meat but them boys didn’t care the difference, they seemed to like the fat more than she did so that was fine anyway. Momma also sent her off with a pail a milk which tasted so sweet after the long morning’s walk. And tucked in the bottom of the sack was a little apple from Mister Jenkins’ tree next door which didn’t produce the best apples but the tang of it was nice to follow on the salty sidemeat and she ate it all up and it was good and set her up fine for the afternoon walk ahead of her. Along the road as she walked she passed through gates that needed to be opened and closed for fear the javelinas would git into the property and root around cause no end a destruction. Ol grammy had a pet javelina when she was a youngster but she never did see no javelinas on the road or on the trail, they’re shy little things and besides most have been hunted up nowadays and ol’ Mister Jenkins next door kep’ his shotgun at a ready and when he heard a a pack a javelinas he’d always go get hisself one and hang it up on a tree outside and them boys’d ask if they could help and get a little piece a that javelina meat, even the fried skin, was liken to Christmas when Mister Jenkins got him a javelina. She saw her a shrike fly away too but did not see no lizard caught up there in his beak. She knew about them shrikes and how they put them lizards on the fence, and that poor ol’ lizard just lay there in the sun til he’s all dried out and jes a shell. She heard about it from ol’ Curtis down the way but she did in fact she saw it oncetime herself on a barb wire fence, caint say what them birds did with the lizards beforn we had barb wire.

My adventure today in the voice of William Faulkner. I’m reading Go Down, Moses and next up is The Reivers. In reality I took a cheese sandwich, potato chips, and a sweet apple on a small hike in a beautiful natural area north of town that closes tomorrow for the season due to it's function as wintering ground for elk, pronghorn, and deer. I did see a juvenile golden eagle, magpies, a shrike, and countless kestrels. Javelinas? You decide.

Who me? Above, javelina bovinalicious. 

Below, track from javelina elkiferous.

Javeline pronghornii.

I Love Toast

I should have a little emoticon heart in place of the "love" in the title. I (heart) toast. Imagine David Sedaris, instead of saying "I...LIKE...GUYS" saying "I...LIKE...TOAST." Or in that episode of That 70s Show, when Donna says to Eric, "I love you," and he responds, "I...love.....cake?" Toast, my friend.

These days I'm enjoying a millet-chia gluten-free toast with earthbalance and Bonne Maman cherry preserves. I often venture into the land of cinnamon raisin toast with peanut butter. Sometimes it's enough to make a literally toasted cheese sandwich.

I don't have a picture of toast. But I do have a picture of our resident geese today trying to wrap their little geese brains around ice on the pond.

 And I have a question for you. My November blogging has been pretty lame. I dream of repeating my marathon February 2011 blogfest. But I need a theme. If you have any ideas for a December theme, I'll be happy to blog most every day. But I think my contented little life is a bit dull for prime time these days. Toast?! Really?!

Shopping for the Christmas Spirit

I went to the Hobby Lobby tonight after work and bought me some Christmas Spirit.

Here is a lovely display of Christmas Spirit. It's not mine; it's a neighbor's. Very tasteful.

This is my half-assed attempt at Christmas Spirit. Tomorrow when I acquire another extension cord, it will be twice as spirited, and therefore only quarter-assed. Yay!

Me and Cesar Chavez

No, I'm not a farm worker, and I'm not a Latina, and I don't even live in California anymore. But that doesn't mean we're not just a little connected. Did you know that on October 8th, just last month, the president signed a proclamation creating Cesar E. Chavez National Monument? The former home of Chavez and the headquarters of the United Farmworkers of America is now part of the National Park Service, and my colleagues have been entrusted to tell these stories.

In March 2006 I interviewed for a job at a park in Texas (can't remember if it was Big Bend or Guadalupe Mountains). Although I didn't get the job, I had a really great phone interview. The man who interviewed me,  in the course of talking about career goals, told me that his dream job was to be the first superintendent of a historic site dedicated to Cesar Chavez. Pipe dream, I thought, since no such site existed. Imagine my delight when I read that this man has in fact been brought in as the first superintendent of the new site. Talk about goal achieved. I sent him a note of congratulations and good wishes. And I told him that should he need advice and encouragement to drive not so far up the desert highway to Manzanar NHS and see what we'd done there.

Today I received a note from a former coworker at Manzanar with a different angle on this story. Seems that the Regional Director who oversees west coast national parks attended the grand opening of Cesar Chavez in October. She had a conversation with Chavez's son about the decision to entrust these stories and resources to the National Park Service. Evidently the family had great doubts about turning this important part of their lives and history over to the NPS. But then, Chavez's son drove his family "to a small national park to see what they could learn about how the National Park Service tells stories about America. It was nothing that was announced or coordinated-- just an unvarnished opportunity to spend as much or as little time as they wanted-- to look around and see what the future might hold. He drove them to Manzanar. They spent several hours there, like so many visitors that go to the park. They learned about Japanese internment, and World War II, and our nation's struggles. They learned about difficult stories of our shared past, and they saw that they were told with grace and honesty and skill. Paul said that as they walked to their car, one of his sons told him that having the NPS tell the story of La Paz and all the farm workers' stories was absolutely the right thing to do. One visit together to Manzanar, to see and feel how the park honors the stories there, helped them all see that the NPS was up to the challenge."

Boy, talk about validation. And it goes to show how great and valuable a chapter the Manzanar years were in my life, and the honor I had in working with a talented and caring group of people. Congratulations to those who came before me at Manzanar who worked with the communities and captured the oral histories and created such a meaningful interpretive center. I hope you all can go there one day.

Downtown

I had a bit lazier day today, but I did walk into town to visit my card store and pick up a couple of birthday cards and some festive wrapping paper. Then a pot of tea at a nearby bakery. Then a matinee at the Lyric Cinema.

On my walk into town, my little brain ran through the repertoire of songs I know that talk about driving into town or going downtown. Yesterday in the woods I was singing the Flatlanders' Tonight I Thing I'm Gonna Go Downtown which Joe Ely sang on Prairie Home Companion last week, but actually my favorite is the same said Flatlanders covering a Townes Van Zandt song, Blue Wind Blew. Guess I'm just in the mood for Joe, Jimmie Dale, and Butch and a little lonely Texas guitar pickin'. I'm sure gonna miss Texas when they secede.

Well the blue wind's blown my dreams away
My true love's flown, she's gone to stay
Now all I've got is yesterday
And I don't know what to do

I guess I'll go downtown and see
Just what downtown can do for me
Maybe set my lonesome free
Or maybe let me go

I loved her true, and I told her so
I asked her to, and she told me no
She said she had somewhere to go
And then she said goodbye.

Fortunately my trip into town was very pleasant. Here's the view from my cozy corner chair in the Little Bird Bakery. The line-up of people was to see Santa. I don't know whether that helped set their lonesome free or not.

Blue Friday

What it looked like from siesta.

Here’s the accounting for my day, this Friday after Thanksgiving:

Paid with the debit card: half a tank of gas.

Paid with cash: cappuccino at Jamoka Joe’s in Loveland, M&Ms at the gas station in Estes Park so I could use their bathroom.

Paid with gasoline: Bighorn sheep in the Big Thompson River canyon, bird of the day also in the Big Thompson canyon, wonderful outdoor adventure.

Paid with leg muscles and sweat: Ouzel Falls, 8 miles, 1000’ elevation gain, 17,000 steps, heaven on a slab of rock.

Took my downtime bluebird day and headed to the mountains to see about those good tidings. Was not disappointed. Was a bit surprised by the snow on the trail and wished I had some in-step crampons. Slowed things down a bit and did not reach my intended goal of Ouzel Lake. Another time. The trail, in Rocky Mountain National Park, was a glory of wind-rustled sub-alpine forest. My path followed Ouzel Creek and came along many waterfalls and fantastic ice sculptures over the creek. Finally, though, just past Ouzel Falls and still a mile from the lake, the trail simultaneously brought me out on a huge sunny rock and then immediately turned into a dark, snowy tunnel through the trees. I declared lunch.

Ouzel is the old fashioned name for the American dipper. So I named my lunch spot Dipper Rock. Did not think that I would see the namesake bird, but there he or she was on the Big Thompson on the way home.

After my hike, I drove into Estes Park where today is a big celebration with an evening parade. I was hoping for afternoon festivities and hot chocolate. But all I found was extreme crowding and chairs lining the parade route awaiting sunset. If I had wanted to stay for the parade, it would have all seemed very festive. But I hated the thought of driving the 30 miles of narrow, winding road down the canyon in the dark. So I called it a day. Had the added good fortune of tuning into a re-broadcast of a favorite DJ’s Wednesday show and listened all the way home. 

In many places the trail had no snow (above), but in many places it was all snow (below).

Above, my picnic/siesta spot. I really didn't nap, for although a casual observer would have applauded my thermoconformer behavior of lizarding on a rock in the sunshine, the truth was that the rock was sapping as much heat as the sun was providing. Nice spot and warm enough anyway.

Nice hat. Reny's Outdoor of Bridgeton, Maine. Circa 1997.

I'm Glad I'm Not Dead

Before you think I’m being flippant, please read this wonderful op-ed piece in today’s New York Times. I read it in bed this morning before the sun even came up, and it moved me.

And then, truly, I am glad I’m not dead. And the opportunities have existed to be dead. Anyone who has made it to my age or older (or younger) has felt the brush, the near miss, the bad decision, the there but for the grace of God go I. And yet, we continue on—more often than not forgetting that every precious moment is a gift. Because it’s overwhelming to be conscious of being alive in every moment. I practice meditation to find a balance to the sleepwalking and the awakening. I move in the direction of awakening, building a toolbox to help me handle the dazzling light of being awake (and with my eventual death).

I had a wonderful time today at the shelter, being as my boss-for-a-day called me: the expediter. I was the one that replaced empty pans with full ones as the servers doled out rolls, butter, cranberry sauce, turkey, mashed potatoes, candied sweet potatoes, stuffing, asparagus, and gravy. They used real butter in everything; the skin-on mashed potatoes were incredible. From all reports the turkey and gravy were equally rave-worthy. My favorite part was the man who brought his harp and played music for us. I barely got to hear him from the kitchen, but I absolutely loved that he was there.

I should add more to my original statement: Dear reader, I’m glad you’re not dead too, although we will be one day...and that will be OK too. My life is very rich with family and friends. And if you are feeling bereaved today because you have lost someone close, my thoughts are with you and I am terribly sorry. It all goes by so fast, doesn’t it? And so…

We take this day, this small Thursday full of thanks. The emails, the phone calls across the miles, the shared meals, the laughter. We take this day to give thanks that we are not dead, that we are alive, that we are given a new start each day, and that sometimes when you catch it right, all the lights turn green.

                                                                                                                            

Pickin' muh Bird

Spent the morning at the Catholic Charities Mission picking turkeys, a lot of turkeys. Upon attacking the first half, I thought to myself that this would be a difficult mission--a vegetarian resisting the deliciousness of this golden bird. If you've ever done this kind of work, you will not be surprised that by the end I had (once again) sworn off poultry forever. Do they have a 12-step program in a chocolate factory? Finally, after a surprise one-last-pan of arms and legs, I called it a day. Told the nice lady she was on her own with the necks. And (yay!) they invited me back tomorrow to wash dishes.

If you are wondering why I go on and on (and on) about the wonderfulness of the heated seat and back cushion in my car, this is it. After standing for four hours and working at a counter which is just a bit low for my towering frame, my back was SORE! A seat-heated drive around town afterwards to run errands was just what the doctor ordered. So the moral of this story could be: I just volunteer to justify the amenities of my privileged life.

Anyhoo, here's my bird...and fellow volunteers Janna and Whitney. I'm guessing we picked twelve birds.

zzz...!snort?...(grhmph)...zzz...

That's me being completely bored with blog posting. I apologize for my lackluster performance.

In the spirit of Thanksgiving, a few good things about the past few days: lasagna, seat heat, sunshine, lazy Sunday, Dust Bowl, seat heat, salted caramel mocha, sunshine, upcoming days off, laundry at home, cheesy movies on the Netflix, popcorn, wonderful coworkers, a new bottle of dish soap, dark chocolate with candied ginger bits, Christmas road trip planning (hours and hours of seat heat), funny things on Facebook, sunshine, and the expensive boots that I bought last year that are going strong and will be kicking ass for years to come.

Speaking of kicking ass, this is the funniest Facebook thing I saw today. Enjoy.

Raptors, Part III

Watching a golden eagle on a cliff.

Today was Raptor Class field trip. Our group of about twenty visited two of our city open areas then headed east to the prairie, came back west to some cliff areas, and ended up at a small lake just next to my beloved Bellvue Bean looking at an eagle on the cliff side of the formation I call the Bellvue Anticline.

Our tally: innumerable red-tailed hawks and kestrels, three male and three female northern harriers, three bald eagles in flight and two perched in a tree, a prairie-phase merlin who sat in the tree exactly where our instructor expected to find her, one rough-legged hawk who gave me a perfect look at his distinguishing carpal patches, one golden eagle perched on a cliff next to his nest and a second one in flight on the prairie.

Others that we searched for but did not see were ferruginous hawks, prairie falcons, any accipiter, and any owls. Did see great waterfowl on some reservoirs and lots of prairie dogs.

And best of all, I have a whole new list of places to visit in my free time for both birdwatching and hiking and biking. Certainly next time I bike to the Bellvue Bean, I'll take a short spin out to the Watson Lake to look for eagles. All in all, a very pleasant learning opportunity, this raptor class.

Soybeans...It's What's For Dinner

I need to pack a lunch for tomorrow's Raptor Class field trip. A favorite go-to is the edamame succotash salad from Whole Foods. Naturally, it's a bit pricey so I thought I'd re-create it at home. I'm not actually sure I've saved much money, but I haven't lost any time. This is a very easy, tasty, and nutritious salad to make at home. And it transports well. As you can see, I'll never be the Pioneer Woman, despite my cool Frye boots, because I can't be bothered to measure. For the nebulously measured items, start with a little and add more to taste.

• 16 oz. bag of frozen shelled edamame (soybeans) boiled for five minutes, rinsed, and cooled
• 15 oz. can of whole kernel corn, drained
• 1 sweet red pepper chopped to your liking
• two slices of red onion, diced
• the equivalent of two stalks of celery diced (I say equivalent, I actually used the inner leafy parts)
• handful of fresh parsley if you have it--I didn't but it would be yummy
• drizzle of olive oil
• splash of homebrewed apple cider vinegar gifted from a friend (or something equally nice and acidic)
• dusting of Zesty Italian dressing mix powder (if you're a normal person, you could skip the oil, vinegar, and dressing mix powder and just use Italian dressing on your salad)
• sprinkling of cumin and coriander, because I use these in just about everything I make
• salt and pepper
• eat immediately and deprive yourself of tomorrow's lunch...

 ...No, look! There's enough for tomorrow too. Maybe this was the economical way to do it, after all.

New Tea (Oh, and Purpose)

I have so much purpose these days I don't know if I can handle any more. But I'm finally hitting my stride with this community diversity group that I'm involved with. Tonight we had a big meeting with the whole university/downtown initiatives group and each sub-group reported out. For our sub-group, I reported on our little, tangible idea (as opposed to our big, nebulous idea that we've spent much time on). I simply read from a prepared page I'd written and vetted with our group, but the idea was well received. It wasn't originally my idea, but the man who proposed it announced that he's moving to Maine in six weeks and jumped ship. So, supporting the idea myself, I presented--and we received good feedback on it. What's not to like about tangible, doable, and right now.

So...the idea is a monthly column in our local newspaper where we work with people of diverse communities (race, ethnicity, ability, class, LGBT, and other marginalized groups) to share their stories, first person, of life in Fort Collins. I may have mentioned (oh, a million times) that life is great in Fort Collins. We are regularly featured as one of the most livable, wonderful, fantastic place to live in America. And that is all true if, like me, you are white, educated, and middle-class or richer. Turns out, it's not such a welcoming place if you are   not. Fortunately Fort Collins is a pretty progressive place, so I think change is possible. I will certainly try as the next weeks go on and I put together a splinter committee, meet with the newspaper editor, enlist a journalism professor, and so forth.

When I moved to Fort Collins, my one lamentation was the lack of racial and ethnic diversity here. I did not expect that I could help change that. Perhaps that's a lofty and unattainable goal, but I'm making my baby step and it feels good.

And I found a new tea, which seems weird but is making me very happy. Oh, and now I get to watch Darby O'Gill and the Little People which arrived from Netflix today. A full day indeed.

In Desperate Need of Light

I’m taking the day off from blogging so that I can work on my Christmas cards. Stopped after work at the local Fedex/Kinko’s store where a luminescent young man helped me achieve my vision for the insert page. Then headed to Hobby Lobby for ribbon and scissors. My goodness the lighting; one could perform major surgery in this store. Found my ribbon in the expansive holiday section where all holiday goods were 50% discounted—could it be last year’s stock brought out early? Didn’t look it. Which brought up the thoughts of the sanctity of Christmas being violated  with such displays this early. But then that reminded me of the Fort Collins tree lighting which took place two weeks ago. I happened to be downtown on a Friday evening when the mayor ceremoniously flipped the switch on the lighted trees of Old Town. She said they will remain lit until Valentine’s Day. They are beautiful.

My point, as I’m adjusting to the early onset of Christmas, is that maybe it demonstrates that I’m not alone in being desperately in need of light this time of year—the real and the figurative. Instead of being all Scroogie in my reaction to the merchandise, I should welcome every crutch available to make it through November (and again December). So I’m Santa’s elf-ing away as we speak with my cards (in my jammies of course), ensuring I’ll be vacuuming it all up well into July. And hoping they too contain a small beam of light. 

Jammies

Without a grand outdoor adventure, I feel the day has so little to pick from for blog entries. I just went to work and got a lot of stuff done. Then I went to my community diversity meeting where we got so little, yet enough, done. And then I came home and put on my jammies. Is it an old habit from when I wore a uniform? That I change immediately when I get home from work? Used to be that I loved to wear real flannel plaid pajamas. But then with the dogs, I was not about to "get dressed" for the early morning dog walk. Nor did I want to show off the plaid to all my neighbors. So I took to wearing sweatpant-type jammies that went from bumming around evenings to bed to out with the dogs at the crack of dawn (came in handy during emergencies, like when my neighbor's house burned down in the middle of the night). And so, dear readers, that is the big thought of the day: that arriving home is complete when the work ID and keys are hung on the peg, the mail is fetched from the box, and the clothes of the day are exchanged for the jammies. Ah jammies.

In other news, here's a bad, too late joke that about three of you will get: Mitt Romney's not the only one who drove to Canada with the dog strapped to the roof of the car.

Soapstone Prairie

Unlike yesterday when I was nearly completely a slug (walking to the store to get grilled cheese fixin's just can't count, don't let me fool you that way), today I actually got up, did my laundry, kicked out the annoying work homework I needed to do (the avoidance of which contributed greatly to yesterday's slughood), and went outside to play. Yes, I went outside to play. Yay!

I wasn't so ambitious, nor did I have so much time, to go too far. So I dug out the pamphlets of Larimer County outdoor destinations that have been in a drawer the past year. Soapstone Prairie Natural Area is an hour's drive north of my home, yet owned and managed by the city of Fort Collins. Not so large in size, but surrounded by further open space. They have trails for hikers, bicyclers, and equestrians. Fortunately for me today I met two other hikers and no bikers, as sharing trails with bikers causes me anxiety (I don't mind horses).

The drive and my small hike consumed my afternoon in the most delightful way. Naturally, being a raptor student, my eyes were trained on the sky. A measly report: kestrel on a wire on my way to the natural area; prairie falcon for just the blink of an eye as he/she zoomed over a peak into view then zoomed over another peak away; male northern harrier on my way back; second kestrel flying, on my way back. Did watch a pair of ravens for a long time as they rode the thermals. Otherwise extremely quiet. Very sunny today and above freezing, but windy, so I imagine rodents are still hunkered down, and so therefore the raptors.

Above, prairie scenery with manufactured object. Below, prairie scenery without manufactured object. 

The Right Amount of Winter

Sunday morning is very pleasant at my house, as the one day of the week when I don't need to get up early and be somewhere. Usually I wake with the light and then just see what I feel like doing, getting-up-wise. This morning I must have awakened early and imagined that it was still dark out because of the storm, anticipation of a blizzard so enormous that it simply blocks out the sun. 

Actually, when I really did awaken to the light, I looked out and realized that perhaps I'd over-anticipated. We got an inch of snow from this storm. And the sun came out today. So really, practically, an non-issue. A far cry from the Montana experience we outraced on Thursday. And I got to thinking about my latest crush--Livingston. And how winter there is not compatible with my idea of winter (8" of snow in the 24 hours after we left, even before the heavy part of the storm hit). And how maybe I need to shut up and appreciate the wonderful winterness of Fort Collins. You see, one inch of snow and a quick return to sunshine is exactly how I like my winters. 

I did walk into downtown today to buy bread at our food co-op. On the way home from raptor class last night I stopped at the Albertsons for all the makings for grilled cheese, cans of soup, fruit, milk, and eggs--the blizzard supply kit. The store did not have my bread, alas. So I spent "blizzard day" taking an albeit cold walk in the sunshine to get the bread to fulfill the soup & sandwich dream. Yup, winter in Fort Collins.

Birds in the Snow

The snowstorm we fled in Montana came and got us in Fort Collins today. Not frigid cold yet, and just a film of sticking snow so far, but I think it's just the beginning. Today was also the second Saturday of raptor class. More lecture but also more bird demos today as we learned habits, habitats, and identifying characteristics of the buteos, accipiters, falcons, eagles, owls, osprey, vulture, and kite that inhabit Colorado. 

Alas, our classroom is in the warehouse that serves as the headquarters of the raptor center. We are warned that it will be cold, and it is. Going outside today to look at birds didn't help. I felt a tiny bit of kinship with New York City schoolchildren going to school in unheated school buildings this past week. Of course they have it much worse, with the uncertainty and the challenging situations in many of their homes as well. But it led me to really applaud the chops of those kids, their remarkable teachers, and their flexible parents. I was able to come home and crank the heat and luxuriate in washing dishes. I hope they can all soon do the same. 

Meanwhile, back at raptor center, our patient birds put on quite a show. We examined (only from a distance, no physical contact) a variety of hawks, then a variety of falcons, a variety of owls, and impressively some eagles. Here are the ones we saw just as the snow really started coming down. My favorite is the bald eagle who matches her handler. In order: turkey vulture, red-tailed hawk, bald eagle. 

Truth in Advertising

I've had a soft spot for the Sinclair dinosaur since my Utah days.

News from the Pronghorn Highway

Came home from Montana today, a day early to beat a monster snowstorm moving in. No, despite the title of this post, nothing newsy actually happened on the highway. The hundreds of pronghorn we saw two days ago on the trip north were hiding or laying down. The rest area on the northern edge of Sheridan was not serving as a polling place as it had been Tuesday. We made no stops for education and culture.

We did, however, learn all kinds of important things. Seems that in this age of iphones and sufficient coverage, if someone else is driving, an inquiring mind can spend a lot of time looking up marginally useful trivia. For instance, our crossing of Horseshoe Creek prompted me to wonder if we would cross the other section shortly. Which prompted Kelly into a tangent of horseshoes, rainbows, and pots of gold. Which prompted a conversation about Lucky Charms cereal which I averred contained no more than pink hearts, yellow moons, orange stars, and green clovers. News flash, 70s child: purple horseshoes were added to the roster in 1984, rainbows in 1992, and pots of gold in 1994 (in a weird probably-not-Nena-inspired cold war act, red balloons were added in 1989).

My extremely lame leprechaun imitation triggered Kelly's memory to tell me about one of her favorite childhood movies that I had never heard of--Darby O'Gill and the Little People. Obviously my childhood was lacking, and someone needs to be held accountable!

Alas we were distracted from the important conversation to observe the ever-present-along-Wyoming-highways snow fence. Having studied snow hydrology, Kelly informed me that the ideal porosity for snow fence is 50%. The fence we were observing seemed a bit more porous, but that could have been an optical illusion. The goal of snow fence is not to fully block anything, but rather to slow down the wind to a speed where it can no longer carry the snow. Ideally, the snow does not all back up behind the fence, thereby simply creating a handy ramp for the snow and wind to jump over. Ok, now that's some news you can use.

Gaining yet more usefulness, let's turn to the critical food information we learned today. Read in the New York times an article about which vegetable makes the best pumpkin pie. News flash, canned pumpkin eaters: butternut squash wins in categories of both taste and texture, and probably ease as well. Blue hubbard, our family's standby, evidently has an undesired granular texture. Sugar pumpkins are neither sugary or smooth-textured. Acorns are a close second, but not as colorful (I have my doubts about this). Butternuts are easy to peel and cook up perfectly. I knew you needed to know.

Finally, as we were approaching Fort Collins in the early evening darkness, we observed a collection of radio towers blinking just north of town. Even the local native didn't know their purpose, so after some wild speculation, I googled them. News flash, clockwatchers: turns out we are the official communicators of atomic time. Snap! Don't we feel important?! What, you say? Well, it's a bit much to tell all here. But...the National Institute of Standards and Technology is the government agency in charge of time (among a stunning array of other cool things). They have an office in Boulder. And here in Fort Collins, and also in Hawaii, they maintain radio stations. Ours is WWV and broadcasts time information at many frequencies in the high frequency/short wave family. Hawaii's is WWVB. People all over the world receive these broadcasts, made in Coordinated Universal Time (UTC, Greenwich Mean Time, Zulu). Information is transmitted both by voice (male in Colorado, female in Hawaii, so listeners can tell where it's coming from) and digitally. If someone has an atomic clock, the digital signal keeps the clock accurate. Hundreds of millions of clocks worldwide are synchronized every day. In addition to time, the stations also broadcast NOAA announcements with geophysical alerts, including solar emissions, and National Weather Service marine storm warnings.

Whew, and you thought all I did today was drive and look out the window at the beautiful Wyoming scenery.

Oh Livingston...

Somehow, almost inexplicably, without me even trying, Livingston, Montana, has become my new crossroads, my way station, my destination (destiny?). I'm in Montana this week for some work meetings in Bozeman/Livingston/ Yellowstone. We had planned to stay in Bozeman but at the last minute I got the go-ahead to book Livingston as the more convenient resting spot. Yay!

I find Livingston to be immensely charming. The historic downtown maintains an area of delightful brick buildings, some with old fashioned advertising still painted on the sides. Neon lights advertise bars, restaurants, stores, and our wonderful Murray Hotel. Previously I've relegated my dad and I to the Rodeway Inn by the highway which is perfectly servicable. But we adore the Murray despite its faulty plumbing and unpredictable appliances.

Adding to my ardor is news from a colleague who has a house here that the charm is more than skin deep. The community has a great focus on arts and culture, and civic engagement is alive and well. Alas we will leave tomorrow, a bit early to try and beat a storm headed our way. But it's just a day's drive away across the beautiful Wyoming prairie. I will return, Livingston.



Election Day

Colorado makes mail-in voting available to all of its registered voters, so my colleagues and I got an early start on our Montana road trip this morning. I filled out my ballot over a leisurely breakfast at The Egg & I two weeks ago while waiting for my car's cracked windshield to be replaced. I.e. civilized.

Our route took us past the Little Bighorn Battlefield National Monument, so we stopped for a tour. This was the battle known as Custer's Last Stand and was where this celebrated Civil War general died in a thwarted raid on a settlement of Lakota Sioux. The most interesting thing I learned, however, was not about the battle. Rather, that monuments to the killed Lakota were not erected until 2003, decades after the monuments to the Euro-American soldiers.

Having worked at Manzanar, and long being involved in story-telling, I find I'm often more interested in how we tell the stories of what happened than in actually what happened. I've been influenced by James Loewen's Lies Across America, a book that enumerates the gross inaccuracies and bias of historic sites and markers in our country, often saying as much about the ones telling the stories as the stories being (mis)told.

You may learn more about the Battle of Little Bighorn and the historic site at www.nps.gov/libi. In short, the Indians won the battle and ultimately lost everything. But don't trust my word; like everyone else, I'm biased.

And because it is, in fact, election day and maybe we missed visiting a polling place, the rest area/welcome center on the north side of Sheridan, Wyoming, was serving double duty as a polling place today. No line here, and hot coffee. And bathrooms.

The Pumpkins of Fort Collins

I got in the Halloween spirit a little bit this year, particularly taking advantage of a game house guest, and carved faces into pumpkins. Afterwards, B. and I agreed that we were the kids that didn't go to art school--and it showed. Especially when we saw my neighbor Brenda's jack o'lantern which utilized the modern technique of only removing the outer layer of skin. Alas for all of us, the squirrels did a number on all of them and I didn't get a picture of Brenda's. Well, it was the holiday spirit and my neighborhood embraced it fully, if not always so artistically. Here it is, a taste of the season.

 Above, our creative endeavors: B's on the left and mine on the right. Below, around the 'hood, the day after. 

 Below, we're not the only ones who didn't go to art school...

 Above, more squirrel damage, and friends.