I have an acquaintance who includes the quotes, below, in each email she sends. She is as conservative as I am liberal, we are polar opposites in all of our most deeply held beliefs. Yet, we both appreciate the wisdom of these quotes and apply their truths to our own lives — she, from one perspective…I, from quite another.
“All that is necessary for the triumph of evil is that good men do nothing.” — Edmund Burke
“Anybody who feels at ease in the world today is a fool.” —Robert M. Hutchins
“Circumstances should never alter principles.” — Oscar Wilde
“Never give in! Never give in! Never, never, never. Never — in anything great or small, large or petty — never give in except to convictions of honor and good sense.” — Sir Winston Churchill
No point of great significance here…just an observation that caused me a moment of reflection.
Every morning this week around 11:00 we’ve been walking around Corn Lake. A good time of day to walk in winter then return home just in time for lunch. Our weather has been beautiful, with late morning temps in the high 30s and low 40s, cool, fresh and invigorating, but not icy cold. Today, there was just enough of a breeze to put a real chill in the air, nipping our cheeks and making our noses run. It made us really appreciated finally arriving back at the parking lot and a warm truck!
I love the sights and sounds around the lake. Some mornings the lake is isolated with only a fisherman or two on the banks of the lake, but this morning there were several groups of fishermen, a family on an outing with their two small kids, others walking the path around the lake, and one biker. It’s great to see others enjoying the trails, too.
I’ve posted pictures of the lake and trail before, but wanted to share a few more. These were taken Thursday, the 16th.
In this first picture, the Colorado River is to the left…
Looking west…
Is there a letter limbo where undeliverable pieces of mail hang out? And who determines how long they remain in that state of uncertainty before they achieve ‘return to sender’ status?
On August 2nd of last year, I mailed a sympathy card to a friend. We had lost touch so I wasn’t a hundred percent certain the card would reach her. For all I know, she could have moved and the forwarding had expired. If that were the case, though, I figured I would soon know because the card would be returned to me. If it didn’t come back to me in a reasonable period of time, then I’d know she received it. Either way, I’d have my answer.
Yesterday, January 19, her card came back to me. Someone had hand-written on the envelope, “Not at this address,” and the yellow post office sticker said, “Return to sender — unable to forward.” The date on the nixie was January 16, 2012.
Does Limbo have a zipcode? It must be really far away to take 4-1/2 months getting from there to here.
Yesterday evening, I recorded PBS’s “The Grove,” a documentary about the National AIDS Memorial Grove in San Francisco, an exquisitely beautiful and serene garden. Until last night, I never knew it existed.
November this year marked the 26th anniversary of Bob’s death from AIDS. I thought that after more than a quarter-century, I could surely bear to watch this program and do so with at least a little objectivity. I could not have been more wrong. Those 26 years peeled away as though Bob had died just last week, laying bare all the memories and raw emotions of that time. I made the mistake of watching it late, just before going to bed. Sleep was very difficult to come by last night.
That having been said, I’m so glad I did watch and learn the powerful story of how The Grove came to be (this is not a new endeavor…site renovation began 20 years ago) and the countless people who have dedicated themselves to making it happen. If you haven’t seen the program, hopefully PBS will run a repeat…it’s a little (who am I kidding, it’s a lot) hard on the heart, but so very worth it.
Every year my first thought the day after that loveliest of holidays—Thanksgiving, of course—is usually, “Oh no…Christmas again, already?” It’s not that I don’t enjoy Christmas once it’s here, because I do. I have a treasure trove of warm memories of Christmases past. And it’s not because I’m caught up in a frenzy of shopping and overspending and partying and overeating (well, maybe that last one a little bit). I did all those things when I was younger and more resilient, and I remember well how I loved the excitement of it all.
Maybe it’s that frenzy-thing that gets me down. One definition of frenzy, according to Merriam-Webster, is ‘temporary madness.’ That madness must somehow generate its heat those of us who mostly observe from the sidelines.
Not surprisingly and despite being less than enthusiastic at the beginning of the season, I can say that Christmas was a delight. When all is said and done and we’re with family and friends, it always is. Ericka and Jay, and Ericka’s dad, Kelly, joined us in a Christmas Eve celebration. Dinner was a simple meal of meatloaf, mashed potatoes and gravy, corn, steamed carrots, creamed peas, and hot rolls. After dinner, we opened gifts, followed by dessert—ice cream with a choice of strawberries or chocolate syrup.
Christmas Day with its afterglow was low key. The most pressing need was to kick back and relax…I like that in a holiday! Ericka and Jay drove to Rifle to spend the day with Jay’s family, and Kelly joined us for another simple meal: chicken burritos. While Irv and Kelly watched football — Green Bay and Chicago — I played with my new Kindle Fire, a gift from Ericka.
We could not have asked for a more delightful Christmas, unless it would be one where all members of our scattered (Minneapolis; Denver; Grand Junction) family and friends are together.
Life in the slow lane can mean downsizing the Christmas tree. Small but beautiful…and take-down is a breeze.
Kris Kringle, standing guard.
I was curious as to how the weather bureau measures snowfall and looked to the internet for an answer (I would be lost without Google!). I found guidelines for volunteer observers, created by the NOAA, with instructions for measuring depth and water equivalent, and learned about using a snowboard and flag, and a lot of other information than my brain is not prepared to digest just yet. Dale, who has always been intrigued by anything related to meteorology, would understand it all. For purposes of this blog, however, I can only rely on what my eyes tell me.
Saturday, December 3rd, Grand Junction got it’s first ‘visible’ snowfall. By that, I mean, it was a skiff or light dusting, or as I noted on our calendar that day, ‘barely there.’ But it was there and it was white. We got more snow Tuesday, the 13th, and again that night. Not a lot, but definitely measurable, especially by someone with the right gauges and know-how. Snow doesn’t generally hang around here too long and a lot of it melts during the day; most of it will probably be gone by the end of today. The good thing is, there has been heavy accumulation of snow in the high country…which, in my humble opinion, is where snow belongs anyway.
NOW…December 14, 2011
But once in a while, Mother Nature likes to toy with our emotions with something like this:
THEN…December 8, 2009
It did not melt quickly.
Irv and I took a walk around Corn Lake (part of the Colorado Riverfront Trail system) this morning. Pretty nippy (for us wussy western slope types), but invigorating. The part of the trail that encircles just the lake is probably only about 3/4-mile, but it’s very pretty and a nice walk for those of us “in the slow lane.” The pictures below show the trail in autumn (then) and in winter (now).
Then: Corn Lake Trail looking east.
Now: Same section of trail, looking east…unadorned, but with its own special beauty.
Ducks and geese congregate at the lake’s edge across from the parking lot. In the summer, they usually all flock around people begging for treats. I never feed them, but they always try and convince me I should. In fact, some of them can be downright intimidating! Today, they let me pass unassaulted…guess they were too comfy and warm to move. Across the lake are the State Park offices and maintenance building (the big white structure and the smaller one next to it on the right).
Remember that old song? It floated across my mind this beautiful Saturday morning as I watched the moon-eclipse from almost the beginning to the very end. Some might compare it to watching the grass grow, but I thought it was an awesome way to spend the early morning hours.
There’s an upside to being a naturally early-riser, when the house is quiet and still, when you look out the window and feel as though you’re the only person awake in the whole world…or at least the whole neighborhood. This morning was one of those occasions. It was about 5:45 a.m. I had fed Annie and the coffee had just finished brewing when I remembered about the eclipse. I took a quick look at the western sky — cloudless, with stars twinkling, and a brilliant full moon. I was in luck. The eclipse had begun, but just barely, for only a tiny slice at the top was in shadow. The moon was high enough in the sky that I had to pull the glider into the middle of the living room to see it through the front window. I sat there in the dark, coffee mug in hand, Annie curled up on my lap, and watched as the shadow slowly consumed the moon. By 6:30, only the bottom half of the moon was visible, and sinking closer to the horizon. The moon’s light that had earlier filled the room was slowly diminishing, as though it was on a dimmer switch. By 7:00, only a fingernail of reflected light remained on the bottom of the moon’s surface. Then, it sank from my sight, disappearing behind the rooftop of the house across the street.
Some things really are free…just a gift, with no strings attached, no expectations, except to enjoy the wonder of it all.
What a great way to start the day.
Nice to have free time to create things…things I don’t really know what to do with now that they’re finished! But a nice diversion and gets me away from the computer for a while.
House Unfinished
House finished! I put a Christmas tree inside the house — first floor, left hand side — and it actually lights up.
In case it’s not obvious, this is my first blog. Dale and Joe each have their own blogs about life in Minneapolis — it’s been such fun having an occasional peek into their lives, so I thought I might as well contribute something from this side of the Rockies.
Since Irv and I are both now fully retired, I thought calling my blog “Life in the slow lane” would be a fitting title.
