Heavens and Howls

These storm clouds cleared away by the next morning, and the skies were a brilliant, cloudless blue all day October 9. One of the people in my class, Bill, said it would be a great evening for star-watching and invited several of us to join him just after the evening reading, after dark but before moonrise, for a brief star party.

We made our way out into the middle of the alfalfa field. The Milky Way stretched in a great arc from Kitchen Mesa to somewhere north of Pedernal, and grew milkier as our eyes adjusted to the darkness. Bill guided us as we found the North Star, then several other constellations (including a couple of new ones for me). Then he showed us the approximate place where the center of our galaxy is, and a hazy brightness that he identified as Andromeda Galaxy, the furthest thing that can be seen with the naked eye. Millions of light years away.

In the middle of the night, much closer than millions of light years, coyotes yipped and yowled and keened from the mesa just above our casita. The next morning, in the hazy dawn, I came upon a small rabbit as I walked from our casita to the library. I stopped. It stopped. I sang it a little song that I have been trying to learn from a Freyda Epstein recording: “Love is little, love is low, love will make my spirit grow.” It sat there and listened, then slowly hopped away, its tail glimmering in the dim morning like that faraway brightness, Andromeda.

The Colleen-oscopy

It’s that time of life: I have put off this life-saving diagnostic procedure for several years after my doctor started nagging me about it. Finally I gave in and made the appointment. Yesterday was the drink-gallons-of-laxative day. It was not as bad as some people made it sound. Today was the “procedure.” It was also not that bad. In fact, I don’t remember it at all. When I woke up, my friend Julie was there and (oddly enough) I was fully dressed. Don’t remember that part. (Julie also said I was repeating myself quite a lot, but I was in a high good humor.)

The only really bad part of a colonoscopy is the cost. And the fact that you cannot find out WHAT it will cost beforehand. But, as near as I can tell, this is going to run in the area of $2,500 or more. I keep telling everyone, “I’m having a colonoscopy instead of two weeks in Italy.” Sort of like, “I’d rather have a bottle in front of me than a frontal lobotomy” or “I’d rather have a radical throw a rock at me than a radial keratotomy,” except  that, truth to tell, I’d rather have two weeks in Italy than a colonoscopy. But, there you have it, I did the prudent thing.

And, after spending $2,500 on my colon, I went to Goodwill and bought two fabulous tank tops for $2.50. One one-thousandth of the price of a colonoscopy!

Signs of the times

 

New Mexico

Vermont

Need I say more? VOTE!

Hello, West Virginia

This is what Charleston looked like when we pulled in at dusk last night, after spending a lovely afternoon, night, and morning in Tennessee with my sister Michelle and her husband Scott. My town couldn’t have seemed prettier. Even before going home, I stopped the car at the base of the South Side Bridge, and Michael and I took my favorite Charleston walk up the Sunrise Carriage Trail. Dogwood and redbud are blooming. Daffodils are still decorating the riverbank. In my own yard, the trilliums are still in bloom, and lily-of-the-valley is just poking out of the ground. The red maple tree that Susie Wood gave me in the fall of 2005 has survived its second winter and put out many new leaves. It’s spring in West Virginia!

So, hello to West Virginia, farewell to New Mexico. And, for now, farewell to blogging. I’ll leave it up for a while, but probably won’t add to it after today. It has been great fun, and a great way to stay in touch with my friends, but this blog was never meant to be a permanent endeavor. Maybe I’ll begin new one in the future!

It has been a great adventure for me. Thanks for reading! Thanks for looking! Come and visit me in West Virginia.

Arts and adventure in the mountains of West Virginia

Although I’ll be in Taos for a couple more weeks, my thoughts are turning toward home. And, among the things I’m anticipating, when I get back to West Virginia, is watching the progress of a new venture founded by my friend Michael Davis.

Water Gap Retreat is a brand-new series of weekend workshops at Michael’s Shavers Fork riverside property near Elkins, West Virginia. The workshops — led by artists that include Jude Binder, Doug Van Gundy, Anita Skeen, Ruth Blackwell Rogers, Mimi Kibler, Scott Weaner, Jim Van Gundy, Michael and Carrie Kline, Kate Long, Robin Kessinger, and yours truly — will focus on many topics, from mountain geology to mountain music, from writing poetry to baking bread, from origami to organic gardening.

Workshops will begin on Friday evenings and end Sunday after lunch. In between, the time will be filled with campfire gatherings, morning yoga sessions led by Irene McKinney, workshop sessions, field trips, and — this may be my favorite part — fabulous, healthy food prepared by some of the best cooks I know. Even the sleeping quarters are special: riverside camping structures designed especially for Water Gap Retreat by architect Bryson VanNostrand, featuring Michael’s shibori-dyed fabric and Laurie Gundersen’s handmade rugs.

The Water Gap website is brand new. Check it out if you have a chance and let Michael know what you think.

Here’s a picture of the river taken from Michael’s property. It’s a great place for swimming, floating, and fishing, too.