Horizon line in soft snow

Hope.  There is always hope. 

And it is up to you, up to me.  I can’t give it to you, and you won’t pave the way for me.  But maybe, just maybe, we can hold hands and get through it together. I remember running through the sprinkler on the slippery lawn as a child.  The spray of the water was so cold, a thing to fear and desire at the same time.  And my sister and I would hold hands and then it would be a wild adventure we would take on together, running straight at it with the comfort of each others strength beside us.

Yesterday I read, “… fate kicks you in the gut, then turns around and gives you a tummy rub. That, my friend, is life.” (J. Thorson in Horse & Rider magazine)

Unwanted tears swell in my eyes as I read this.  I think about a truth that at times I wish was not. I wonder why life can not be more like a fairy tale.  Think Cinderella; you get the tough stuff over with, and then are allowed to live happily every after.  Nope.  Not in real life. What’s with all these ups and downs?

And yet if I refuse the ups and downs, I refuse the richness and beauty of life which surrounds us, and isolate myself in protection, remaining apart, blind to the brilliance. I consider the splendor of tear descending a soft, dry cheek. The twinkle of an eye with a secret sense of humor.  The gentle curve of a smile, and the intrinsic pull this has on one’s heart.  Life is indeed lovely in all her magnificent moods.

We could play it safe and stand on the shore and watch as the tide comes and goes. Instead, I choose to dive in.  At times, this leaves me drowning.  Other times I am as free and fluid as the playful dolphin teasing the sparkling surface at sunset.  And then silently I sink into the depths and withdraw to the deep darkness like the Sperm whale.

fresh snow on Pole Mountain

After three days of snow, three feet on the ground, having been snowed in for three months, and still figuring on a couple months left to go… the hens begin to lay.  Forrest returns from his evening chores with two beautiful brown chicken eggs.

And this, my friend, is a handful of hope.

Hope.

I want life to be easy some days, and some days it is.  The next day it won’t be. Usually it’s a roller coaster, isn’t it?  At times I feel the best we can do is strap in and enjoy the ride.  (“How do you drive this thing?)

Tres is due to foal in just over a month.  Soon I will lead her off the mountain in all this snow, somehow, perhaps over the packed snowmobile track early in the morning when the snow is still hard.  It will take hours to walk out.  Perhaps all morning. Perhaps all day.  I will enjoy the time with her. I will talk to her and we will walk together, and she will be fine, comforted in my presence as she has trusted me for years. And then, I will miss her, miss her birth, but hopefully allow her a healthy foal.

Crow will suffer more than me.  Of all his mares, Tres is his favorite.  She is everyone’s favorite.  She is their leader.  And she will leave them, temporarily, for the hope of new life. 

Hope.

We do what we have to do.  We stop whining.  We start hoping.

a light load, a heavy load

Two trees in the snow

Washed over in white
Softening the landscape and my mind
Erasing the tracks of yesterday, yesteryear
Smoothing over, soothing over
A downy silk sheet
Somehow tender and forgiving
The rocks and brush and fallen trees covered
Ravines are leveled with the land
The horizon eases beyond blending with the sky
A hillside painted white

Two broodmares in the snow

Somehow I thought we would find our home here. I thought we could make it, build it, create it, fight for it. The voices of the past fought us stronger than the elements, proved harsher than the winter storms. They said it would be the weather, the elevation, the isolation. Binds of the past suffocate even in wide open spaces. Shallow roots do not hold in muddy ground.

I have no land where my family laid down roots. We clung to roots here, buried too thin, and the trees are blowing over. Where may I bury my roots deep and solid? Is it too late for me to grow my own?

I do not feel fear in moving on, though there are waves of sadness and anger that come and go. I allow them to wash over and back with the tide. I look forward to today, to tomorrow, to adventures, challenges, to our life, our creations, together.

The goodness I see in my child open to newness. We discuss the greatness in travel, in change, in one placing oneself outside the box, outside the comfort zone. Is there anything that forces a mind to open and grow more? The book of life, pages blown open in a draft as the door releases. We can no longer hide behind our safe blanket of beliefs. Truth is exposed. The world is seen for the absolute beauty it is as it stands before us as raw and exposed as we before it. This is how our minds grow.

And in my husband, the lightness and excitement that swell inside him as I see him begin to peel off the burden of worn ties and expectations, walk away from this weighty load, and allow himself to rise up.

They are both more beautiful every day.

If I seek commitment, I see I have already found it. In my son, and in my husband. My boys. The greatest gifts of all.

We find the positive in our lives as plain as a fragrant rose on a thorny stem. It is easy. It is within us. We need only learn to look.

Looking at Finger Mesa

“The art of living does not consist of preserving and clinging to a particular mood of happiness, but in allowing happiness to change its form without being disappointed by the change; for happiness, like a child, must be allowed to grow up.”
Charles Langbridge Morgan

“Life is never stuck or static or stale, for each moment is ever-new and fresh. Every ending is a new point of beginning.”
L. Hay

“If nothing ever changed, there’d be no butterflies.”
Author Unknown

I believe I am ready to fly…

Above the ranch, along the road

It is only a passing storm.

The storm left late last night, leaving behind a layer of early winter about the mountain, with frosty and frozen ground, naked trees, and stark white ground in the high country. Now the big moon is illuminating the peaks of the mountains like big bald heads.  The sun will shine shortly.  Much of the snow will be gone by noon.  Perhaps by this afternoon I will be riding on a mostly dry trail again.

Yet yesterday, in the throws of the storm, I was not able to see beyond the hillside just across river.  My world shrunk, became tucked in, shallow, narrow, enclosed by the storm and its heavy clouds and white air. A heavy veil like a heavy burden draped over me as the clouds encircled the hills. 

When you’re in the middle of storm like that, frozen and blinded, at times you can not look beyond.  You forget how far you can see. Not only beyond the tightened horizon, but beyond today, beyond the passing of these clouds, to a clearer and warmer tomorrow. The clouds consume your hope and vision.

Trapped.  That is how you feel.  Trapped by weather you consider may forever remain, cold and wet and stormy.

Alas…

In no more than a few hours from now, the sun will be over the mountain and warming our ground, our home, our hearts.  Things change.  Get over it, my friend reminds me. This too will pass, she says.  And of course, she is right.

In the meantime, I put another log on the fire, and create a little bit more warmth in my own simple world as I wait for the inevitable sunrise.

Gone riding...

“Let us strive to improve ourselves, for we cannot remain stationary; one either progresses or retrogrades.”  Mme Du Deffand

At times, as change is so slow to come, we find ourselves in need of a challenge to push our limits, to raise our spirits and fill us with hope, to lift us above the ashes. And so perhaps creating the challenge is what we are in need of.  Creating the change…

On my fridge is a quote from an unknown author: “You cannot plow a field by turning it over in your mind.”

Around my home, and especially on the fridge which is covered with words of wisdom printed on simple magnets, are quotes of inspiration, little reminders for things too easy for me to forget.  Like bravery, courage, and strength.  I know these things are in me; they are in us all.  But I get too comfortable, and forget to challenge the drive that has got us all where we are today.

Above me desk is a quote by Eleanor Roosevelt:  “You gain strength, courage, and confidence by every experience in which you really stop to look fear in the face… You must do the thing you think you cannot do.”

That in mind, I head out today for a solitary pack trip. Alone.  Not fully alone, of course. I will have my saddle horse and pack horse to help me, and for me to care for them. But it will be up to me, for four days, riding and camping in the back country and Wilderness.

As I prepare to head out this morning, I am grateful for my horses and the beautiful mountains around me in which I will be able to spend the next four days.  More than anything however, I am grateful for my husband and son who allow me the time and space and understanding to follow my dreams…

“You must be the change you wish to see in the world.” Mahatma Gandhi

Me and my honey on top of the mountain

Six years ago today the improbable happened.  Bob and I were married.  News spread and people came from far and wide to see what they never expected to take place.  The joining of the independent woman and the perpetual bachelor…

It was a remarkable first for both of us.  We were finally ready. (Yes, I know, some of us are late to grow up – but more important, I am sure, was that we both finally found the right partner.)  Finally old enough to know what we were doing, to know what we wanted, to know it was right and would work… despite the challenges 

Challenges.  Of course every marriage has them.  Age old as our problem was, it still seems to me as an unfortunate and unnecessary challenge. Family. In-laws…

Legend has it that on our wedding day, the mother and brother of my husband vowed to split us up within five years.  My husband was 45 and had never been married.  I suppose in their minds, he was never supposed to be married, and certainly, never supposed to be happy.

Thanks to the in-laws, the marriage got off to a rather rocky start… On the evening after our wedding, my husband’s mother stumbled into our home in a stupor, and our honey moon scheduled to begin the following day was cancelled in order to care for her. 

The dramas have continued ever since. 

And yet despite it all, happy is still a word we define ourselves by, our relationship by, each other by. 

In the face of such adversity, a good relationship gets stronger.  What could have split us apart brought us together – our need to stand up for what we believed was right… despite the challenges, against the odds, and certainly against their efforts.

What we believe is right, first and foremost, we have learned, is our family, the three of us. Our relationship, our well being, our safety and our security, our business and our home, our joy and our love and our friendship together.

Each and every one of us are forced at times to define what really matters.  Challenges can be seen as opportunities.  Opportunities to find and figure what matters most.  What is worth keeping, creating, and walking away from.

We all have our challenges, our mountains to climb, the rocky slopes and threats of sheer drops offs, the storms that may catch us off guard.  We hunker down at times and wait out the weather, trudge onward other times no matter how tired and sore. Yet through it all, we must remember to stop and gaze about the mountain, enjoy the view, and look back at how far we have come.  Look around, and see how much we have created.  Our relationship, our family, our home… Our love and yes, our happiness. 

Challenges.  Helping us define what matters most.  I am still fiercely independent.  Bob still, I tease him at times, holds onto some of his bachelor ways. We are not two peas in a pod, and I would never want to marry myself.  A relationship is based on balance.  I once read that a good relationship is based on love not despite differences, but because of them.  I don’t want a clone; I want a special individual to balance, to challenge, to help me define what matters most… and yes, sappy as this may sound, I don’t think anyone can deny that what matters most… is LOVE.

Forrest took these photos of our Colorado Columbine while riding down the trail from Ditch Camp at my request, especially for Al.

I once was told we are only as indispensible as a drop of water in pail.  However long the ripples last is how long our impression remains.  We are all easily replaced.

Hmmm… I did not agree.  Instead, I chose from this to value life, and the people in my life, even more. And to avoid those for whom others are considered so bland, washed out, easily replaced…

I am but learning to respect each person I am fortunate enough to meet, believing that from each one, there is the potential of a lasting impression, a lesson learned, a life enhanced.  The ripples may not last long, but the drop of water remains indefinately.

People do make an impression on me, no less so than the mountains that surround me, or the rivers that I have been blessed to live beside. Each guest or neighbor I am able to take time to visit with, or stranger I meet in passing on the trail, another drop of water, another lasting impression.

And if we are all but a drop of water, I suppose it is each drop for me which makes up the fullness, the richness of that bucket. Without each drop, without each person who has dropped into my life and influenced me in some way, that bucket would be incomplete.

Perhaps we all may be but a drop of water.  But you fill my bucket, you enrich my life, you make me who and what and why I am.

Colorful Colorado, photo by Forrest

Walking up the new road from the Little Cabin yesterday

Time flies.  Some times it quite amazes me.  Not that it’s a bad thing, it’s just that sometimes it catches me off guard and I’m surprised by how much time has past since last I noticed.  Another full moon lit the sky last night.  I look forward now to the next week of silver light in the predawn hours as the moon sets later and later each day, illuminating my early morning rituals.

I’m anxious for a change, but that is the one thing that seems to be standing still.  We sit here in our comfort, trying to accept the things we don’t like, tolerate things we aspire to change, attempting to make baby steps towards our future, and reminding ourselves that this state we are stuck in isn’t too terrible. So many have it so much worse. We all say that and try to justify our pain by comparing to another’s. That’s never worked well for me. 

Yet we feel tangled in a sticky web at times, unable to move freely.  Caught up in the past, in others dreams, in binding ties and obligations and responsibilities.  It’s not all bad, we know. So much of it is wonderful.  But something underneath it all feels wrong, and encourages us to try to move ahead.  Perhaps it’s the never ending family issues, which I fear are as much a part of the land as the tainted soil, and will not wash out in the next heavy rain.  Other times, I feel it is the fear of change that causes us to cling so strongly onto the safety of the past, the safety of the little bit of what we do know, rather than stepping into the unknown.

But why do we hold onto it?  Just for the comfort?  Also, of course, because making the change is coming so hard.  Those doors just aren’t opening. 

The future is scary, likewise the time of change. But the remaining here without change, without forward motion, seems somehow to be like a sickness one learns to live with.  Not necessary healthy, but tolerable.  You know it could be worse.

But I know it could be better.  I don’t want to hold onto the past for fear of the future.

I remember being brave.  I am not right now.  I feel it, remember it, and am itching to step boldly again.

Enough of looking within. Time to look outside.  As the pink clouds streak the sky and the tips of the mountains across river already have direct light from the rising sun.  My horses line up along the fence waiting for my whistle, and the boys will be up soon ready for another good day.

Reflections in the frog pond

A friend writes to share an ancient Chinese expression, at once considered a curse and a proverb: “May you live in interesting times.”

How appropriate to reflect on, for we do now, don’t we?

Interesting times.  Now seems especially interesting, or perhaps, are my eyes just more open as I reach out for support getting through our hard times, and realize there is no one I speak to (or rather, usually write to) that is not experiencing hard times of their own, in one way or another?

Another friend writes, “Everyone has their ‘situation’ to deal with.” And this goes beyond the realm of the difficult economy and job situation.  Is no one unaffected by some ‘situation’ or another, be it financial, health, marriage, family, neighbors…? No.  She is correct.  We all have our ‘situations’ to deal with, don’t we? Perhaps it is these situations, these challenges, these interesting times, which open our eyes, our minds, our hearts, and at the same time, bring us together?

Even in the most idyllic of worlds, ‘situations’ arise, fester if only within our minds, and follow us throughout our day.  Even here, in this pastoral mountain world where nature and beauty abound, we are not free from ‘situations.’ I have lived in many places, and never seen so closely the anger and hatred, lies and sadness that haunt this land, based on what?  A mother who chose to divide her family as she divides a land she holds more dear than her children?  I don’t know. I am convinced now I will never understand. In a land of magnificence and a pristine environment in which to raise our child, our home, our garden and horses and business, our life; hatred is just a fence away. There are a few ‘situations’ we will never comprehend, we will never be able to fix.  All we can do is walk away.  The land is indifferent.  Our loved ones are not.

Is there no perfection in this world? Do we spend a lifetime seeking what we may not find?

We go through our spells where the world seems magical, perfect and without ‘situations.’  These moments are fleeting, but often last long enough to remind us what we are seeking, what we are working towards. Perhaps like the carrot before our nose. Those moments are ones of true peace and contentment.  We are not longing, not wanting, not seeking; not hurting, not living with pain or fear.  Are these moments random or chance, or visions of what life can be if we learn to control our emotions?  We can not control the world around us, circumstances that affect us.  All we can control is how (and if) we react and feel.  Those things we can control, although I can’t say I know how yet.

Ultimately, we are reminded that life is not about the past. It is about now; a compilation of past experiences, future plans, and present situations. And now is constantly changing. Still, we find ourselves so reluctant!  It is scary.  It is hard.  But it is also exciting, and fresh, and necessary.  Without change, we remain like still water and in time, turn stagnant.

At times, I cling desperately to the past, to a situation which was once so comfortable.  But I see it is no longer there, it is but a memory to grasp on to, and learn to find comfort in the new world around me, in the new day.  Change reminds us of what is really important. Nothing teaches us more than the challenges of change.  Standing still, we know it all.

Change is a vital ingredient to life.  It can be simple and subtle at times.  Or harsh and drastic.  Waves in the sea, fluctuating with the wind, with the weather, with the moon.  We strive to stay afloat.

Evening clouds over the Rio Grande

Looking from the parks above our ranch

The frogs are quieter now.  The chorus is calmer, the singing softer. The frantic energy of the first of spring has tempered and becomes easier with the warmer days and nights. We sit and listen and have to wait.  Their song no longer calls us from a hillside away. Now we hear their melody more in anticipation than in the air. I wonder how many more days it will last, and wonder why I will miss this.

After the silence of winter, the hum of their song broke through the frozen air, carried along in the bare woods like a distant war cry. Curiosity attracted us after observing so little life on the mountain throughout the winter. A tender reward.

How quickly the seasons change.  How much we would miss if we did not learn to look.  How simple this mountain and our lives would remain. How many of these mysteries would remain unknown to us if we never ventured from the beaten trail of the mountain and of life?

And yet, we all know, once we begin to open our eyes, our minds, our hearts… suddenly we begin to see how little we really know. Or perhaps it is just me, feeling very small at times on this big mountain.

The mountain has infinite mysteries.  Not secrets, for there is no intent to hide. Everything is there, open, ready to be shared if we only take the time to look.  Around us and inside us.

Looking back home, yesterday on the mountain

From my window I hear the roar

of distant waters running free

unmoved by far away worlds

the problems of the people and the issues we create

yet so strongly driven to follow its own path down the mountain

A celebration of life and energy unbound

but for the banks that manage to contain

the jubilant force of these muddy waters.

The falcon rests on the coyote fence outside the kitchen window.

From this window yesterday, perchance unexpected company came to visit Forrest, sitting home alone at the kitchen counter, anxious and bored, I can imagine, with his thoughts drifting from the view before him, the big wide world and all that the mountain and beyond present before him; and back to the books spread out directly, on Chemistry or Geometry or World History. What meaning does all that have when the world outside is so simple and clear, so free and fun?

But he understands all about the sacrifices we make today for the betterment of tomorrow.  On the simplest level, another hour of school work earns him the right to jump on his dirt bike and take off up the mountain beyond, alone and free, fast and wild…

What we learn today will make us better tomorrow. What each individual learns today gives promise to making the whole world better tomorrow. Ignorance is a binding chain that holds the falcon to the ground.  Knowledge gives the bird flight, direction, a path in the wind.

For a young and curious mind, knowledge opens up the windows and allows the truth of the mountain and the world beyond to flow in like the strong spring winds. 

The falcon comes closer still, and lights on the back porch. (photos by Forrest)

This is an Ode to Bud. The wonderful old cowboy I mentioned in a post earlier this week passed away a year and a half ago at the age of 95.  I don’t know if I will ever have the honor to meet such a wonderful real cowboy ever again. 

So I share with you something I read long ago.  Something written to inspire us all, but also in hopes of describing those traits and personal qualities that make someone like Bud so special.  It’s a “code of ethics” of sort, modeled after an ideal of the finest of the cowboys, listing what makes a person a good cowboy, and a good person. Inside. Not out.  I don’t mean chaps and hat and boots. I don’t mean loud stories of wild western adventures horseback. I don’t even mean years of experience of working with cattle. I mean that part within a person that governs the way they live, that leads them to just be good. What I am referring to here is that part deep within that drives you, presides over the way you live, affects your choices in life, and how you treat others. 

This list is nothing new, and I did not write it, but I strive to learn from it and live by it. The first time I read this was on an etched wooden plaque a guest of ours gave us as a gift.  It’s still on our wall by the door and I need to read it over regularly because, I, for one, always have a lot more to learn. 

Not everyone who works with cattle lives by this, of course, just as many who don’t work with cattle do.  In everything, there is something to be learned, an opportunity to be a better person, to make this world just a little bit better.  Bud epitomized this code of ethics.  He lived it, he taught us all by example, and you know what? He had a wonderful time doing it, and everyone around him could feel it.

The Cowboy Way

1.        Live each day with courage.

2.        Take pride in your work.

3.        Always finish what you start.

4.        Do what has to be done.

5.        Be tough, but be fair

6.        When you must make a promise, keep it.

7.        Ride for the brand.

8.        Talk less, say more.

9.        Remember that some things aren’t for sale.

10.     Know where to draw the line.

Above and beyond these ten points, lies one I have trouble finding the words for. It is far more important than each of these points, because it incorporates all ten. It is about how we treat each other. How we treat our brother, our neighbor, the kid bagging your groceries with the bread on the bottom, and the lady in the pick up that just ran into your new truck.

It is the Cowboy’s Golden Rule.  I think you all know what that is.

On the front of the card shared at Bud’s memorial services, or rather his “Celebration of Life,” there is a quote that reminds me of this.  A quote that I know Bud lived by. A quote I now keep on my fridge with a picture of the old cowboy sitting so proud and right and comfortable on his favorite mare:

“A life is not important except for the impact it has on others.”

Jackie Robinson said that.

I look around my home and continue to find little things I can pass on.  Books to a neighbor, clothes to a thrift store, a plate full of cookies from an extra large batch.

That part is easy.  After all, it is just “stuff.”  An ongoing house cleaning, never ending as we always seem to acquire new things as we give the old away. But there is far more to giving than a simplifying of our lives and of the clutter around us.

I suppose it’s just part of human nature, a trait within us all that creates a smile as we give a gift. You know that sense inside. You feel good. I’m not saying giving is selfish.  We are not motivated to do it because of how it makes us feel. But when we do give, there is that special reward that follows. It is a simple way of making our world just a little bit better. One gift at a time.

I do not give enough. It has been a challenge to find ways and means to give, to reach out, to volunteer from such a remote location. Sure, I could send checks in mail or donations over the internet, I know… but what if I want to give the most valuable gift of all: my time?

Last New Years, the start of 2008, the three of us made resolutions not about giving up, but about giving. Volunteering. Finding ways and means to give of ourselves when we live so remotely was not easy. What could we do from such a distance that would still hopefully help in some small way?

The lover of the land that I am, I signed up for environmental program monitoring frogs on the mountain (yes, we do have frogs!).  With a brother serving over in Afghanistan, Bob agreed to mail over packages of our used clothing for the needy over there.

Forrest decided to grow his hair to donate to Locks of Love. He estimated it would take a year to reach the minimum required length of ten inches. It took longer than expected, but this week he finally reached his goal.  We had the cutting ceremony, and then trimmed up what was left behind. The long hair had become an annoyance at times, yet he had a commitment, and a responsibility to fulfill.  He chose to wait it out, and was rewarded by being able to present a gift representing time.

Before...

...and after.

We stress the importance to Forrest of giving, teaching by example and by encouragement of his actions. It continues to be a challenge from up here, but with creativity, he finds ways.  Last winter, he was able to participate in the organized efforts to feed the elk suffering from the extremely harsh winter. This year, he helped out a neighbor, staying alone on their ranch caring for their menagerie. He has written the CDOW officer who covers this area and requested if there was any way he could help out from up here on the mountain. Unfortunately in this case, the CDOW officer has yet to write back. I ask myself what kind of person can ignore a 15 year old kid who writes with hopes of volunteering? There are always disappointments. Perhaps we should be hardened to such. As one friend says, we can expect the disappointments, expect to be disappointed in life.  And when we are not, we can be pleasantly surprised.  I don’t know if I want to go through life like that. I truly believe in more. I expect more.  And I’m willing to give more. So yes, I also may be hurt more.

And yet, just when we are about to give up hope in our fellow man…

A few weeks ago, I lost a two year old horse. A group of very special friends, a volunteer group called Paws to Go from the Fellowship Church, took their time to write me notes, simple words of understanding. When I received each one in the mail, it was like getting a hug or an understanding hand on my shoulder. It was a beautiful gesture and a great help to me to know I was not alone in my grieving. A reminder to me of what positive effects our acts of thoughtfulness and kindness can have on each other. And then, to consider what each of them might be going through?  There are good people.  I do not give up hope.

And so I am reminded of people who can give, even when they may be in greater need than myself.  And reminded what a beautiful thing the gift of time can be – even if it is a simple act of sending a caring note in the mail.

I have plenty to give, though I need to remember to take the time to give the most valuable things I have:  my time

It is so easy to find excuses; I do not have enough time.  Perhaps I do not take enough time.  But when we remember what a difference our time can make…

These are interesting times. Hard times for many.  Yet I see it bringing out the best in so many.  Perhaps we all need a shake up every once in a while to stop and take a look around and remember how much we have, remember how much we still can give.