Tag: Leadville

poetry

making a memory

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making a memory

when can we get apple pie again?
he asks wistfully
we can make apple pie
I say
we can? when?
we have everything we need
I say
how about tomorrow?

friends ask
what are you looking forward to most?
and when I say
slowing down
they’re puzzled –
it’s not the destination they expected

I’m looking forward to
taking the butter out
measuring the flour
letting him squish it all in his fists
taking our time while the dough
firms in the fridge

I’m going to enjoy
watching him hold the knife
and carefully turn apples white
then slice them thin

I will breathe in cinnamon
and hear the rough scrape of sugar
as the apples turn to flat leaves
of gooey brown

then we’ll roll out the dough
mound up the spiced fruit inside
deliberate about a pattern for the top
seal it all
and bake it to steaming

and the warm pride of making something sweet
won’t be a distant glow for him –
he’ll have tomorrow’s hot homemade pie
forever
or as close as our fallible minds allow

poetry

closure

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closure

beat your swords into plowshares
Isaiah says
in Colorado it’s different

first, poison the land while smelting your swords
so no person may call it home
then wait
for the weapon of choice to change
the killing to grow more efficient
the boom to bust
and the other beings to return

the hooved and winged and furred folk
don’t know about sarin gas
or plutonium’s halflife
they see only a quiet open space to be

today we pile out at Camp Hale
a fairly upbeat installation
known for fresh-faced skier boys
and I’m not thinking of death

the kids skitter off down the dirt road
and I stop at the sign
eyeing a closure
wondering what wildlife
we might be lucky enough to see

but it’s not like that
ASBESTOS
no human entry
human health closure
they’re too far to call back
and I’m not positive
where we are on the map

the whole area’s off-limits
to off-trail use, too
and when the beavers’ handiwork
forces us off the asphalt
I wonder –
unexploded ordnance?

I hold my breath
not knowing what safe looks like here
cursing the military-industrial complex
feeling conflicted about these
contaminated but public lands,
like Rocky Mountain Arsenal
and Rocky Flats
with their innocent burrowing owls
and elegant jumping mice
still greenwashing the worst of our nature

I don’t want plowshares left even
I just want to beat all those swords
to dust
proxies for the men who profit from them

mostly I want to stop worrying about where we step
and what we might breathe
just recklessly take in this blue sky
and bands of white clouds
without having to think
about the terrible things
we do to our own

poetry

happy trees

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happy trees

spring fills in the paint-by-number mountainsides
and broad swaths of beige-grey lighten up overnight
it’s a green so new it floats like mist
a luminous glow suspended above crowns
like a saint’s nimbus

you can’t make out a single leaf
instead there’s a cloud of burst buds
as if someone took a fan brush
rubbed in the taste of early snow peas
and dabbed the scene to life

the aspen stands come in the way they go out
patchy
one sprawling clone flashes on at a time
your brief chance to greet each individual
before it fades into forest

photography

Gray Jays and Mountains

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Yesterday we went on a short hike up the road near our cabin, and we observed the first Gray Jays of the trip! These birds are very intelligent, familiar, and are actually the national bird of Canada! They are somewhat common at high elevations, and are also called Canada Jays and “camp robbers” because they have recognized campsites as sources of food and steal food from the occupants. Also during the day the clouds over the mountains parted and created apparent pools of light on the mountainsides. Here are the photos!

Gray Jays are very trusting, and this one flew up to the sundial on the deck right in front of me!
This jay took almost no notice of me, as it was busy foraging.
For some reason, this jay was did not seem to notice the sundial, which made me think that they are commonly seen here, even though this was our first sighting.
After perching on the sundial, the jay flew down to the snow and actively foraged for seeds.
In this photo, the jay was successful in finding some food.
We continuously have a wonderful view from the deck, but the soft light enhanced the photographic opportunities.
These mountains are unnamed, but you can see on the left the slope rising up to Homestake Peak.
The green blanket of forest transitions surprisingly quickly from dense trees to snow and rocks on the slopes of these mountains.
This is the most complete view of the mountains from the deck in this sequence, and you can see Homestake Peak on the left and a the trees near our cabin in the foreground.
poetry

eating apples

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some things are hard to swallow
thirty years believing
nothing was going down
all that ending
in daily chitchat
about nonsense

my grandfather
after his stroke
begging for ice
me not knowing
which was compassion
giving in or denying him

immune tonic
so vile I shake
each time I take a swig
sitting there on the shelf
through my coughing spell
an open challenge
I’m not ready to meet

the orange pills
that let me run
and keep my sight
but claimed my gut instead

our sweet son
grimacing at an apple
refusing to obey
his need to please

oh as antidote
to all the bitter herbs
stored in my little chest
I’m gonna chew on pine needles
and Old Man’s Beard
swallow big draughts
of sun and snow
wash them all down
with muddy meltwater
and the strong tea of tannin
make my own tincture
of silence and time
wait for the healing to come

poetry

meringue mountains

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meringue mountains

the black peaks sport a smooth white mantle
glossy in afternoon sun
the texture of whipped egg whites
not yet baked to toasty brown
cornices stretch along ridges
like pulled marshmallow cream

from here the slopes seem airbrushed smooth
but put yourself there
stung by angular crystals
blasted by wind with nothing in its way
all sculpted and smoothed
by a chisel and hand
we’re too small to see

poetry

baking on the boat ramp

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baking on the boat ramp

in not-quite-spring
when the world is more
white than green
and the campground gates
still slumber
you and I
find a steep bit of sun
make ourselves stars
or corpses
either way
we bake on the boat ramp
like dough on stone
letting the photons
wave their way
into our bodies
to cook out the cold
keep death at bay
put some Vitamin D
-elight into each
preoccupied cell

photography

Pine Grosbeaks in the Backyard

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Yesterday I posted some photos of a pair of Pine Grosbeaks that visited our yard. The grosbeaks stayed far away, and I wasn’t able to get good pictures, but they returned yesterday evening and provided great views, mainly of the male, and I was able to get better photos. Here they are!

The female grosbeak in a deciduous tree, unlike the name would suggest.
A female grosbeak eating the flowers of the deciduous tree.
The female with the flower in its mouth.
The male grosbeak displaying its beautiful colors while foraging for pollen and flowers.
The male posed wonderfully on a branch for several minutes, resting from foraging, and allowed me to get several good photos.
A zoomed-out view of the male perching on the branch.
poetry

the little firs

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the little firs

after the sun
then sleet then hail then rain
snow thinks about moving on
leaving this patch of woods
lighting out for downstream parts

deciding, it transforms
grows supple energetic on the move
flows
buffs and magnifies
each once-mediocre rock
into a semi-precious find

that old stiff snow laughs down the mountain
singing a spring song
and at the margin
of each steep white-walled
cliff of reluctance
peeking out at the very edge of the melt
are the little firs
their small lithe bodies
bent but not broken
shrugging off winter’s frozen weight
straining toward summer
ready to make something green
from nearly nothing again

photography

Coulson Gulch & Leadville Arrival

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A Sand Lily on the trail out of Coulson Gulch
A Delphinium also on the trail out of Coulson Gulch
The trail into Coulson Gulch with a view of the foothills
A weird ice formation off the side of the shed in Leadville
A male Pine Grosbeak in a pine tree in Leadville
A female Pine Grosbeak in the same tree in Leadville