Jul 31

Day after the New Blue Sturgeon Moon

 Mt. Moriah profile from Mt. Hayes from Google images

Early morning rising and off for a hike to Mount Moriah, 4049 feet, located south of Gorham, NH.

There's coffee in the thermos, beer in the cooler and fancy schmancy gorp in the pack underneath the REI thermometer.

Jul 30

Two notable events: (1)  Jim's arm swelled up like Popeye when yellowjackets stung him.  He held the mother of all yellowjackets, the string trimmer, and tried to mow down the weeds next to the bricks lining the daylilies.  He found a yellowjacket nest instead.  I couldn't get close enough to show the furious wasps trying to sting the trimmer where Jim dropped it and ran away.

(2)  I researched hikes in the White Mountains and looked at peaks of 4,000 feet to climb.  Laughed when I saw the newspaper clipping from the recent trip to Colorado and the long list of mountains at 14,000 feet.  Bloom where you're planted, Auntie Lois says.  It was exhausting just doing the research.

Shaking my fist at Mr. Death, I'm renting a red convertible and driving to the top.

Jul 29

Yesterday, feeling especially fit, I bought a pretty little green, yellow and purple two-piece swimsuit with a skirt.  It was perfect swimming weather and the water was a warm 82 degrees.

So I swam in as a mermaid and came out transformed into a cheese-and-cookie-eating, martini-drinking Weight Watcher.

Sigh.

Jul 28

 

From the  expression of duality and Sankhya philosophy to baking cookies.

Today I prefer the sugar and butter.  More grounding.

Later on some Greek concoction will appear in the crock pot composed of turkey meatballs, artichoke hearts and potatoes.  And when we're grounded enough, an airplane ride!

Jul 27

What if you thought someone was wrong but she was actually right?
What if you vigorously disagreed with another but put yourself in her shoes and saw through her eyes?

Duality. One solid, one reflective. Which is illusion?

When was the last time you saw someone enter and light up a room?
When was the last time you lit up a room?
When was the last time you darkened a doorway?

Jul 26

Going to the lake today.  Packing up again.  Consolidating.  Paring.  Choosing what to take and what to leave behind.  Like deciding what to put in a painting and what to paint over.  I always put in too much.

Christmas in July

Fleece wrapped around the feet, she's also wearing an old ratty sweatshirt boasting a crow in a cornfield.  She stares stupidly at the screen wondering what to wonder.  The house floors are clean, the dishes washed, dried and put away.  The recently past hot spell fried the grass and it's gone dormant.  But it's still too long and needs mowing.
When that is done, will she declare Sanskrit Day and work on a glossary for the Living Tantra seminars?  Who's she?
Sheba, Shiela, Shigella, Shenanigan.

"I desire wisdom and my heart seeketh to find understanding. I am smitten with the love of wisdom.... for wisdom is far better than treasure of gold and silver... It is sweeter than honey, and it maketh one to rejoice more than wine, and it illumineth more than the sun.... It is a source of joy for the heart, and a bright and shining light for the eyes, and a giver of speed to the feet, and a shield for the breast, and a helmet for the head... It makes the ears to hear and hearts to understand." - Queen of Sheba

Jul 24

Dainty hats and a spot of tea
Petit fours and parlor games
Long Island Iced Tea and comraderie
Gifts, gifts galore

The sister and mother of the bride-to-be got tangled up in their hats, just as daughters and mothers sometimes do.

No one drank the hot tea prepared in the collectible pots decorating the table.

The honored guest and her sister shone beautifully in their hats imported from London.

All the crust trimmed from the bread made it easier to swallow the sweltering day.  Dress-ups, food and liquor; it could have been Renoir's Boating Party.  Sans mixed company.

Jul 23

It's never been this hot for anyone in Portland under the age of 35 years old.  Even the bullfrogs in the pond are croaking.

Borders Books announced liquidation sales to begin, and despite warnings for people to curtail their vigorous activity in the heat, the line waiting to buy books snaked around the store almost twice.  Poor Borders.  It was a store to love, even though none of my books were on the shelves.   I looked for a wedding shower gift, but left with empty sweaty palms.

Hopefully the Mad Hatter wedding shower this afternoon will be held indoors and be air conditioned.  But it's not likely, with all the tents and accouterments erected outside in the neighbor's back yard.  Powder, clothes from India, and a parasol may be required.

Addlepated

Befuddled, confused, disoriented.
Regarding time, place and person.
The world has changed.
No one smokes.
The cook has disappeared.
The air lies heavy.
Distance is nigh.
The sky is the color of peach and ash.

In the humid haze
A chunky teen boy dances,
Arms up in the heavy dawn sky,
Voice unchanged
He sings soprano, "I'm just a love machine,
And I won't work for nobody but you."
Ridiculous and sublime,
Anything but ordinary.

Mike's Birthday

Pizza from PizzaHut
Cards from the neighbors
A new fence
Packing for the beach;
Those born today are good hearted
and like to make people laugh.
They are concerned about their appearance.
They love dogs and hiking in the wilderness.

Jul 20

Thunderstorms.
Rush through airport, late.
Missed connection.
Overnight flight between 2 large bodies and 1 snorer.
Home again.
Is that sound happy or sad?  Singing or howling?
Home again!

Jul 19

The flowers in Colorado bloom beautifully this time of year.

They include roses, Indian paintbrush, bluebells, columbine, cosmos, and assorted others whose names I don't know.

It's been said that the dry climate diminishes the scent of flowers here.

 

Instead of flower perfume, the scent of cinnamon from a sycamore tree drifts over the road to the gate when we walk the dogs in the morning.

 

Jul 18

The experiment of monkey blogging about our trek before we hiked it did not turn out to be totally accurate.  In fact the prediction was completely wrong.  Instead of the carefully configured loop hike of 36 miles, we surrendered that plan after only 0.3 miles of hiking uphill to the trailhead.  Packs too heavy!

The culprit was the load of food, an overcompensation from last year when we exhausted the food supply a day early.  So we saw no fish, we used no ropes, we tracked no cougars, and we sat by big campfires every night.

The first day we went 1.5 miles mostly in rain.  The next day we walked uphill 2.5 miles.  There, in a meadow at just above 10,000 feet, we set up camp and did not move our tents for another 4 days. 

Glorious!

We day hiked to the Continental Divide amid all the wildflowers.

After resting a day, we hiked to Vestal Basin, bushwhacking one mountain because we did not obey the Sign of the Cairn.

Most of the equipment held up.  There were no falling incidents involving water crossings.  Blisters were kept to a minimum.  And we walked out of the wilderness, looking good in our still-heavy packs.

The cinder-pouring narrow gauge railway engine tooted its approach.

Arrived alive 

from the Continental Divide.

Jul 17

If all goes as planned, we'll break camp at Needle Creek and hike the last 3 miles to flag the train down at Needleton.

We've hiked some distance between 36 and 38 miles, mostly above 10,000 feet.  What adventures will be waiting to be told?  Will it be about the beautiful flowers in full bloom after a winter and spring of heavy snow?  Or about the rains and ingenious creek crossings?  Or the cougar we tracked?  Or the evening backgammon games after drinking scotch whisky at 12,000 feet?

Jul 16

Hazel Creek crossing this morning.  Last night we had a good supper from our dwindling supplies.

At least this year we are not in danger of running out of food as we did last year.

We forage for berries aplenty in the Chicago Basin.  But we are leaving the Basin for Columbine Pass, 12,683 feet.  The final frontier.

Jul 15

Yesterday we were water babies, from above and below.

Crossing Rock Creek yesterday morning, we kissed feet to the fish, and in camp next to Johnson Creek the rain came down.
We were well protected with tarps and tents.

We crossed Johnson Creek today and began climbing again after all that lovely downhill.

I have had enough climbing and am threatening to use the final phrase, the secret phrase that stops the beatings from going too far.  "F*** it, I can't go on."