The Unseen World

Gregii tulips pushing through

Canadian Chokecherry in bud

they dream beneath - II

under the cool soil
bulbs dream of spring
pray that snow will be kind
frost will not kill

tulip
grape hyacinth
iris
all smile
daydream of the rain and sun
next march
as the blankets of winter
are stored
and the soft down of spring
hovers over their bed

The poem above was written last summer when my friend Art, and I, wrote a series of poems inspired by our gardens. For some reason the last few days I have been thinking about the unseen. The plants in the garden that are emerging like the tulips pushing through the crusty soil after the little rain we had last week. So many things underground; we aren't aware of their energy or even their existence until they suddenly appear - all little miracles.

Temperatures have soared the past week hitting 80's on several days; today is cooler at 66' with plenty of sun. Not exactly a typical March, except for the breezes, but I haven't heard a complaint except the ever-present "We need the moisture." As my friend Bruce said this morning, "a rancher could have two feet of water over his head and they'd drown saying -' we needed the moisture!' " The motto of an arid homeland.

Unseen things are all around. At night I'll be watching TV with Snowy on my lap when she'll suddenly be alert and staring at something over my head and behind me. She stares for at least 2 minutes then generally jumps off my lap and goes into the kitchen. I decided that it is very possible that spirits of those we have loved do come to visit us. Cats are reputed to be able to see paranormal activity and I tend to believe it as our older cat did this too, but not as much as Snowy.

The other unseen in my life has to do with a Teddy Bear. I have a Xmas bear that has a little button on it's hand that you press and it plays Xmas carols. When Peter was alive, if we had a thunderstorm in the night we would be awakened by "silent night" which we found very amusing as the night was anything but silent at that point! Since his death Ted bursts into song for no reason. No-one touches him, there are no apparent electric charges like lightning. Sam and I have decided that "Dad" is visiting when this happens. Who knows? When Sarah came to visit last year, I was interested to see if Ted would greet her. Indeed he did, on the night of her arrival! So plants and ghosts, the unseen world is there, and wouldn't we love to know more?!

Thawing Out

daily haiku

at fifty seven

cat stays outdoors all morning

and I search for green

Hanging Woman Creek is thundering down to the Tongue the past few days, swollen with snow-melt and some rain earlier in the week. Normally it is a dirty placid body of water so it is exciting to see it in so much motion.

Golden Eagles appear to be feeding and possibly nesting under the hill and make exciting sights to watch through the big porch window. Snowy is outside as much as possible constantly checking the flower beds for the first signs of new catnip plants so that she can nibble them, come indoors, spread eagle on the kitchen floor, and look cross eyed!

Most of the snow has disappeared leaving a few patches of ice here and there. Our post office in Birney may still disappear in May. The congress has not performed their agreed task of correcting the bill that makes the USPS pay employees' retirement many years in advance. While Washington squabbles the electorate suffers, in particular those of us in rural areas. Our postmaster retires at the end of the month and I cannot help but think that USPS will use this as an excuse not to renew the position and close down. While thawing takes place all over the west the biggest thaw has not, the thaw between the U.S. House and Senate. Maybe we should send them some of my early spring catnip!

Sauvage at Seventy

Above: you can tell the height of the flood water from the ice on the bank

The notice in the front reads "No Overnight Camping!"

The ice was about 12" in depth

daily haiku

a winter rainstorm

floods and torrents of water

a savage landscape

This week nature got a little freaky again. We had 2" or more of rain in 24 hrs and with the frozen ground it all ran down creek beds in its entirety. This resulted in flooding and log jams.Hanging Woman Creek here in Birney was no exception. Sitting up on the hill I was oblivious to what was going on - noticed some flooding in meadows and that was all.

But apparently Hanging Woman Creek bridge was jammed by old logs and tree stumps that washed down, resulting in a flood that ran over the road and was so high it marooned foot-thick ice on it's banks. You can see from the above pictures that the level of water was tremendously high. Sometimes the weather and landscape here combine in a savage way, and this was one of those occasions. I prefer to use the french term "sauvage" which translated means wild. Many of my neighbors had horses and cattle marooned or standing belly-deep in icy water and not able to get out; they had to wade in to free them and lead them to safety.

I was recently interviewed by the Billings Gazette for a story about our devastatingly bad phone service and the FCC's lack of interest in correcting the problem. This was a direct result of a letter I wrote to them, about a week earlier, where I accused the FCC of having, "feet of stone and heart of lead" - what's the use of being a poet if you can't come up with a good description or two!

Between the fight to keep the Tongue River Railroad out of the valley, the Otter Creek area from being strip-mined and various other causes I feel compelled to take a stand on, I guess I must be seen to have my own sauvage landscape. Will I be looked back on as "that batty old Brit who lived on top of the hill?" Right now at seventy it really does not worry me. I think I'll adopt the philosophy of my late husband who said, "At seventy I'm a geezer and geezers can do what they damn well please!" So I'll sign off just like a letter to Ann Landers:
Yours Sincerely, Sauvage at Seventy

A Good Thing

Ted and the Puffalumps arrived for Christmas

Christmas Tree 2011

Chris at 70 years old

Bruce and Tina Anderson

daily haiku

sorting through your desk

I shred parts of your long life

wish you were still here

Well - thinking about this poor old blog that I have neglected so long, I decided just to show up at the page and write. I can't believe I last wrote here on Dec 11th - almost two months ago! In the days that have passed since then, Christmas came and went and mid-january, I turned 70 years old.

I spent the two major days with the Andersons - my friend Bruce's family - and had a wonderful time. They are good people and fun to be with. Christmas at their house was almost as good as being with my own children; they have many of the same traditions about dinner and opening presents, and lots of humor; it was really enjoyable. I spent New Year's Eve with friends Aaron and Donna Holst, and we had a great time each cooking meals for the other and watching football. I would be so lost without the wonderful friends that I have.

Despite a snowstorm and 8" of snow the day before, the Andersons all ventured out to Birney to share my birthday with me, and that was very special. Stewart's girlfriend Gill made a cake for me not knowing that I had already made one, so dessert was two cakes and ice cream - hopefully fortifying them for the long trip home!

This winter is wonderful compared to last year. The temperatures are warmer and I have been able to walk outside almost every day, which I love. I am feeling emotionally stronger and have now begun the long task of sorting through all of the piles of stuff around the house that accumulated when Peter was not feeling well. We were both book hounds (I still am) and so gathering up and finding homes for books is a large part of the task. I already have 8 boxes full and have no idea what to do with them. Libraries have turned me down this far, so I am seriously thinking of loading them in the car and setting up in the K-Mart parking lot in Sheridan with a notice that says "FREE BOOKS" one nice weekend. After all I think K-Mart shoppers may be just a bit more literate than WalMart shoppers - what do you think?!

Today I cleaned the upper part of Peter's desk and then placed my collection of books in which I have been published in his bookcase. Seeing them in neat rows there gives me a tremendous sense of accomplishment and I think he would be happy to see them too. Much more sorting and cleaning awaits, but as I do each chore the house becomes more a part of the new me, the stronger and happier me, and as Martha Stewart would say "It's a good thing."

Approaching Winter Solstice

daily haiku

solstice dawn rising

golden mornings and evenings

spiritual feasting

Such a beautiful time of the winter, it never fails to lift my heart in awe of the beauty in this place. I was so lucky to have seen an "ad" in the newspaper in England so long ago (1964) and come to these gorgeous surroundings.

I was thinking this morning that one of the reasons I wanted to stay, besides meeting my first husband Bob, was because of the sunshine and huge expanse of blue sky. Looking back I might have suffered from SAD in the UK; the winters were long, dark and wet. Last winter was the worst of my life, hardly seeing the sun during long periods of time really exacerbated my grief.

Just lately I walk in Birney in the morning and then down the driveway and back in the afternoon just taking in the hills with their rifts hilighted by snow. I can see animal prints everywhere and know that, whatever I feel, I am not alone on the hill. Mouse tracks from under bushes, deer hoofprints everywhere, tiny prints on the patio from birds and chipmunks, pheasants peck under the fenceline and as I drive in lately I disturb a flock of Hungarian Partridge - now called Grey Partridge I think.

In 2003 I had an essay (prose poem?) published in Hard Ground IV: Writing the Rockies called At The Solstice. I think it shows my happiness at this time of year so I am posting it below. Happy Solstice time readers!

At the Solstice

Approaching winter solstice, I draw back the curtains in the morning light. I see long shadows from the rising sun, that highlights deer tracks in the snow, and touches trees, weeds, and hillsides, with pale gold light.

Later in the day, working at my computer, the low light shines through the window reflecting in my computer screen and I reluctantly lower the blinds. The cat loves the winter sunshine; seeks out puddles of sunbeams. She moves around the house, following the rays of light, and bathing her rheumatic joints in their warmth.

Later, when I put her outside, she acts as if she is going to her doom; one step and she’s face to face with the firing squad. It makes no difference that I tell her calmly, it is her work to chase the Pine Crows from the bird feeder so the little birds can fly in to feed; her baleful glance and switching tale tell me she thinks, “So – what?”

As low clouds gather in the late afternoon, the sun hides behind them, the light turning thin, but still casting salmon-colored rays around each fold of vapor. The sun slowly lowers to the south and west, and long shadows form once more, this time from trees, fence posts, and the side of our house. The cat mews pitifully outside the door trying to tell me it’s cold out, there aren’t any more Pine Crows, and besides, it’s time for her afternoon snack.

I watch the evening rays slowly sink below the horizon, spreading their glow across the Buttes, the colors reflecting in the partially frozen river, in one last moment of glory. The cat is now inside gorging on Ocean Fish Dinner, and my husband lights the fire, ready to warm us in the long solstice evening ahead. I am content.

Morning Thoughts At Minus Eleven

daily haiku

minus eleven

a pink dawn through icicles
treacherous beauty

I am sitting here at my computer, room at 62°, which in summer would be most welcome. This morning I have to run a heater to stop what Peter called "the radiative effect" of the cold from pulling all the heat away from my feet and legs. I finished my energy news research and got the urge to write in my blog when, as yet, I haven't had any coffee to stimulate my brain. Must be early cabin fever!

The extreme cold weather is unseasonable this side of Thanksgiving, it blew down from a bad front which brought cold, snow and high winds to Alaska a week ago. At least we have been spared their 100 mph winds - I simply can't imagine that chill factor.

As long as the promised warmer temperatures arrive as forecast, I plan to spend Thanksgiving day with our friends the Peterson family in Sheridan. Adrian and Thelma had an antique store in Dayton, WY. at the foot of the Big Horns and having a Connecticut background in common we became good friends. Adrian and Peter shared a wickedly dry sense of humor and we shared many of the same past-times. We were invited to have Thanksgiving with them around 1983 and it has continued to this day. Adrian died in 2008, Peter in 2010. This year saw the sudden death of their son David, and of Thelma's mother, "Gramms" Isakson at 103 years old. So our numbers are dwindling. There will be some sadness missing all the good times we had together, the laughter and stories.

Along the way we graduated to having dinner at Thelma's son's house Bob Peterson - which is in a lovely spot that looks towards the Big Horns. Lyn cooks a turkey for us even though she doesn't like turkey very much, and I bring candied cranberries from a recipe I found in Gourmet magazine in 1967. Thelma makes an awesome pumpkin pie and Bob a sour cream raisin pie and sometimes maybe a couple of others as well . Yes we all suffer from desert mania!

This year we'll be giving thanks for having Gramms with us for so many years; for David's life and his sobriety, which although cut short, helped him to reach out and heal many others through his work in addiction; for still having Joe and Pauline - Lyn's Mum and Dad - with us, and for just having each other to lean on through our grieving process for these great family members who will share with us in spirit but no longer in body.

The Brits Must Have Their Tea In Bed

daily haiku

tea awakens me

golden taste of india

jump starts feeble brain

In the UK having tea in bed is a luxury that people indulge in quite a lot. They even make a machine to make tea automatically in your bedroom called the Teasmade - here is a link to a video that is fun to watch http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=lkDu0kZkjFw

Yearning to treat myself to this pleasure again, before I went to bed last night I set up a tray in the bedroom with electric kettle, cup and saucer, milk jug and sugar bowl and a 1-cup teapot with a teabag in it. This morning I woke at 6.00 and decided to go back to sleep then suddenly I remembered - ah - tea in bed! So I got up, turned on the kettle put on my bed jacket and got back into bed. The kettle boiled. I got out, poured the hot water over the teabag and stood there slightly chilly while it "mashed" then poured the final cup and got into bed again. Ahhh - delightful! I leaned back against the pillows, read, and drank tea before getting up.

But then what could I do without my first cup of tea as I read the newspaper at my computer? My day was totally discombobulated! So what did I do? Made a second cup of course!

I don't think tea in bed will be a part of my life on a regular basis but it was a fun exercise in getting chilled while going back and forth between the bed and the teapot. Of course, there's always a Teasmade!