madranchwife

Just a tad bit nervous around here.  I’m finding I can’t listen to the radio and thank the lord we don’t have television reception in the house.

That leaves me the good old internet.  And luckily it’s Saturday morning so the news dumps are not piling up in a fast and furious manner.

So…can I keep myself content with jazz music all weekend?  Or will I resort to CNN on the XM radio? God forbid.  They were my go-to news network in 2008, but something seems to have happened to them in the intervening four years.  Much like something seems to have happened to this country in the last four years.  Like we have two alternate universes coexisting at the same time, on the same continent.  Weird.  Very, very weird.  Anyway,  MSNBC is even off the air for the weekend (at least on my XM radio) and they are my new news network (again, on XM radio as there is no television…thank goodness.  I don’t think I could handle the Romney ads.)  Yes, I know they are liberally-leaning, but a girl’s got to have some indulgences you know?

So…back to that whole Mitt Romney phone call thingy.  I kid you not, when I heard him on the other end I screamed and dropped the phone in the countertop bubbly water fountain that sits right next to it.  Then I swore because the phone was wet and it doesn’t work anyway and now I’m really going to have to buy a new one and all because Mitt thought it would be a good idea to call me.  ME!  As if he didn’t have a clue as to which team I bat for.  I mean, isn’t it obvious?  So now, not only do I dislike the man because he is a consummate liar (sorry republican friends and family), is contemptuous of those of us who make less money than him, and speaks poorly of the President O, I have to buy a new phone.  Because he thought it would be a good idea to call me.  I’m not sure what happened to him on the other end, cause when I’d recovered my wits enough to fish the phone out of the serenely bubbling water fountain and dry it off, there was no one there.  Maybe it was the scream…or maybe he got water in his ears.  Whatever.  He was gone and I didn’t get my chance to tell him a thing or two.  Or three or four thousand come to think of it.

Then that started me wondering.  Why is the Mittster calling little ol’ me?  What’s up with that?  He can’t see the bazillion bumper stickers I’ve got on my car…well, used to have on my car, but don’t get me started cause that’s still a sore subject.  I digress…

Back to Mitt.  Ahhhhh…..then the epiphany.  I’m a registered Independent.  Is he courting me????  Oh so flattering.

But no, that can’t be it.  My name is not associated with the account for the phone number.  Ah ha.  The ranch is.  And they must be in the bag for the Republicans.  But then why do they need a call to remind them they are Republicans and they should vote for the Republican on the ticket????

Things that make you go hmmmmmm…..

Unless…unless…now just follow me here (and all you liberal, left wing, socialist, gay-lovin’ Subaru drivin’ nutjobs like me, don’t get too giddy…)…perhaps…they’re SCARED!!!!!!!  A ha!  That’s it!  They’re getting worried.  So they’ve got the big dude himself sitting there desperately dialing up his friends to beg, sorry, ask, them to vote for him.  So sad.  Pathetic actually.  What a waste of his time…and it must be so beneath him to have to grovel for support.  OH my, I’m getting snarky.  I do apologize.  I’ll clean it up.

Back to the whole “they’re scared” meme.  Must have been catching up on Nate Silver’s blog (www.fivethirtyeight.blogs.nytimes.com).  Now that would be enough to cause the most grown of grown men (not women though cause we’re pretty much unflappable) to run for the hills, screaming “aaaghhhhhhhhhh.”  Mmm-hmmm.  Go catch yourself some of the latest forecast.  Enough for me to be doing a little, tiny (still a bit superstitious and don’t want to jinx things) jig and humming to myself “woo hoo hoo hoo hoooooo!!”  Cause nothing means happy more than Tigger bouncing merrily along.

Have a lovely day out there friends!

So, the wee one (who really is not so wee anymore come to think of it) is already trying to decide on her Halloween costume for next year.

For those of you who don’t know, Halloween has become something of a righteously big deal here in this household.  (Not sure if “righteously” is the correct word, but I think it sounds fun, and as I’ve said before, as this is my blog and I’m writing, I’m taking some literary license here.  Sure, that will never get me any book deals, but what the heck eh?)

As I was saying–Halloween is something of a colossal (there, that’s better) event here.  Gracelyn has a wonderful friend in Saratoga who makes her the absolutely bestest costumes EVER!!!  We love our Laura M.  She is truly divine and is able to cater to Miss Fancy Gracie’s every wish and whim.  For those of you who aren’t that familiar with my darling daughter, she can be something of a diva at times.  (Not quite sure where that comes from–written with a slight smirk on my face.)  And is QUITE specific about what she wants and how she wants it.  (Pretty darn sure where that comes from.  One hint-NOT the dadster.)  Anyhoo–last year it was this fantastic brown horse with pink mane and tail, the head of which would rival any shot from the Godfather.  Noooooo, not bloody and severed…but large and completely life-like.  So darn cute.  With girly black eyelashes and adorable ears.  It was a HUGE hit everywhere we went.  (I had to find Halloween events last year just so Gracelyn could prance around in her costume.  And boy did she strut her stuff.)

So this year, it’s all about MERMAIDS.  Again, Miss Gracelyn had a specific vision which she relayed to both me and Laura several times.  At one point I was worried I was going to have to be the costume maker extraordinaire, but then the Universe smiled on us and Laura produced, and holy mackinolies if it isn’t absolutely perfectly divine.  Just simply DIVINE.  I’ll post pics later (though the momster–that’s M-O-M-S-T-E-R again, NOT monster–thinks I shouldn’t be putting pictures of us out there, so we’ll see).

So, yes Halloween is not for two days, but ever the planner (yes, I will take credit for this character trait of hers), Gracelyn is already trying to decide on next year’s duds.

So…here’s our dilemma:

Genghis Khan       or        George Washington

Yup.  Those are the choices.  And from the little time I’ve spent with this darling child, once she gets something in her head, that’s usually the way of things.  So even though I still have 365 plus 2 days to go until Halloween 2013, I am fairly certain it will end up being one of the above dudes.

Any thoughts? 

I suppose you might like to know just why my 5 1/2 year old darling diva of a daughter is considering portraying the fiercest, most successful, Mongolian warlord and conqueror the world has ever known?  (I mean, really, whatever happened to a fairy sprite or a dragon or a carrot costume?  Genghis Khan??????   This should just give you an inkling of what my days are like around here.)  I digress…

To fill you in on the thought processes of this unbelievable soul that inhabits my world, I should start with the details of a drive back home from Greeley one night a few weeks ago.  Mom has let me borrow some audio books as I seem to be in the car more and more these days and am in need of something to keep me awake.  One of them was a novel by Clive Cussler, who writes about an ocean adventurer named Dirk Pitt and his sidekick Al.  This one was “The Treasure of Khan.”  I was on about Disc 5 out of 14 from my various trips and it was just getting good.  We were on the Laramie Plains, it was dark, NPR was no longer on and I was sleepy.  Bad confluence of events.  I checked the rearview mirror and saw closed eyes and a slightly open mouth (both good signs the munchkin had finally drifted off to Neverland).  I popped in the CD and settled in for the suspense.  About 20 minutes later I heard a stirring and realized with dismay the darling child was awake and LISTENING RAPTLY.  I turned off the CD.  Loud protests emanated from the backseat.  “Mommy, play the story.  I want to hear it.”  I tried to tell her it was an adult story and not good for little ones.  All to no avail.  And damn it…I wanted to hear what was going to happen next.  I warred with myself for about 27 seconds (should I let her listen to it, with some violence and a complex plot…or should I try to stay awake otherwise and wait to hear what happens next later?) and then popped it back in.

And thus, the little listener became an authority on Mongolia and Ghengis Khan and suspense and intrigue and so on and so on.

Do I feel guilty for ultimately thinking of myself and not her fragile, innocent little brain?  Maybe a wee bit.  But I will say that our Social Studies lessons have certainly been enhanced as we now know where Mongolia is and we’re learning about Ghengis and his son Kublai Khan and Marco Polo who headed over there for a while way back when.

And really, the story wasn’t full of gratuitous violence, no reference to s-e-x at all (yes, I spell around here, though now I have to do it quietly–which infuriates Superman as his hearing is not the greatest, though for a superhero that’s a bit odd wouldn’t you say–ANYWAY…I have to spell but that’s not going to last long as when I was spelling a word to my dear mum the other day, Gracelyn interrupted mid-letters to tell me what I was spelling.  Oy vey.) and the story was actually not scary or too suspenseful.   NOT like the CD my dear mother puts in for Gracelyn whenever they’re in the car together…THE WIZARD OF OZ.  ?!?!?!?!?  Now THAT is a darn scary CD.  Just hearing that cackle and the music for the flying monkeys is enough to send me into nightmare-land. 

So…again…Ghengis Khan or George Washington?

(George Washington because he is her favorite president…other than the coolest ever President O of course!  I’m not sure who she would choose if it came down to George or Barack.  I’m thinking she’d find a way to have both as her BFF’s.  She’s working on a diorama of Mount Vernon at the moment.  Well, not at this precise moment, because all EXCEPT ME are asleep in the house right now.  Even the damn mice.)

Hello all.

No cynicism or wit this morning.  Just trying to sip the morning cup ‘o joe (which in this case, for those of you who know me is a triple shot 1/2 caffe dark chocolate mocha with whip) and watch the snowflakes fall.  Just a dusting as of this moment.  The two to three inches we got just a couple of days ago is mostly melted away.  Go figure.   It is early yet.  Though it’s been a cold, dull fall (see earlier melancholy post) so I could see how it might segue into a cold, dreary start to the winter. 

Me, being the eternal optimist am hoping for a whopper of a start to the winter…yes, I am actually an optimist at heart.  Maybe I’m more like an idealist.  Well, how about an optidealist…optimistic and idealistic all rolled into one.  Which, if really contemplated, would lead one to understand why I am so wounded by the harsh realities of this world.  Not only do I wear my heart on my sleeve, my entire soul is out there as well.  I don’t just see the world through those lovely pinkish lenses.  I believe with every fiber of my being it should really be that way.  All lovely and sweet and pure confectionary bliss…just like a box of Godiva chocolates.

Ahhh….here one might throw in a reference to Forrest, eh?  You know, I’ve never even seen the entire movie through from start to finish.  But one of our favorite memories is sitting at Bubba Gump’s in Monterey Bay.  Not sure if it was the good food, the good Bloody Mary (for me, not little g so hold on to your hats) or sigh…Monterey Bay.  Wow, I digress.

Not even sure where I was going with that diatribe.  The coffee is really, REALLY good this morning.  Sometimes I make it simply superbly.  All of the elements align to produce one wonderful cup and then the world is right for the amount of time it takes for me to take in the delicacy.  And the mind tends to meander…

Alas, all good things must come to an end. I’m staring at the last dregs in my elephant mug.  Such a coming or crashing back down to earth can sometimes be jarring.  I’m going to try to ease into the day instead of crashing.  What do you think?

Vaya con dios mi amigas/amigos.

However, and I sincerely apologize, no photos as of yet.  We got just a couple of inches…not really anything to sneeze at really.  Max was hysterical yesterday when the snow had started!!  The first experience with snow is always fun to watch and he didn’t disappoint.  I did get a little video of it, but as I’m technically challenged right now (who am I kidding…that would be always), I’m having a bit of difficulty figuring out why it’s not easily inserting its merry little self here for you all to peruse at your leisure.

So…as the day is fast unfolding and there are as usual about a bazillion things more on the to-do list than are humanly possible, I simply must end this missive and get to the parts that really matter.  NOT that this doesn’t matter, but the computer is such an inanimate object and that adorable little girl dancing around the living room desperately needs some pure, true mommy time.  Unfortunately for her it’s going to come in the guise of school (she’s not too happy with it lately), but there you go.

So, hang on to your hats.  I’ll get pics here soon.  Though it’s just not that pretty I’m telling you.  The dry summer just really did a number on this place.  That’s why, for the first time, I’m wishing for mountains and mountains of the white stuff.  You know, like the 16 bazillion feet that Alaska got last year.  I swear I’ll never ask for anything else…promise.  Just, Universe, if you could please deliver the snowflakes I’ll be good.  I promise. 

I feel like we need a ‘reset’ button here.  We need a do-over.  The paltry winter last year, followed by the dry spring and summer just really took a toll here.  Don’t get me wrong, it’s still beautiful.  I know how fortunate we are to be living here.  But each morning I step outside I am reminded of what nature hath wrought this  year.  There is no grass.  What little grass there is has been worn away to the dirt (thank you dogs).  OR eaten from the roots by these pesky little rodents that simply have defied my every attempt to send them to a different time and space.

Well, here’s a picture for you.  I took it this morning because I am simply amazed by the sheer tenacity of these little, irritating living creatures.  Every morning I see a new pile/mound of dirt with some tufts of grass roots mixed in.  Dotting the countryside.  And ALL in my yard.  Not out on the mountainside, where I know FOR A FACT there is some long, juicy, green (used to be until last night probably) grass.  But in my yard.   Which now looks like it has been mined.  And actually, one does have to be careful walking around out there, because all of a sudden, the ground gives in and if you’re like me (wearing flip-flops) you come out of a hole with a black foot and shoe.  AAAghhhhhh……things that make me crazy, nutso, off-my-rocker, insanely mad. 

(For a visual of me fighting the critters this year, I ask you to remember oh so fondly the movie starring Bill Murray and some furry little creatures.  Got it yet?  Yup, Caddyshack.  My yard-front and back-used to resemble the fine, manicured golf greens of that movie.  Then…cue the scary music…the creatures appeared.  And nothing has been the same since.  I have spent the entire summer and fall attempting to rid us of these intruders.  I have tried everything you will attempt to suggest to me, I am just letting you know.  My heart has broken each and every morning when I step out and survey the latest damage.  Got that visual yet?  That’s me.  While I’m tamping dynamite down one hole, the little bastards–oops–are sticking their heads up another hole, laughing at my back.  Well, I haven’t resorted to dynamite yet, but I am seriously close.  Seriously.)

So, the picture this morning was because I was shocked that the little thing would have the audacity to do it in the snow.  And the stark contrast between the beautiful white carpet and the mound of dirt was gut-wrenching.

I’ll also include some pictures of my gorgeous, used-to-be, flower garden in the front.  This is where the salamander was so rudely tossed to the side and thankfully Superman was around to save.  Last summer it was breathtaking (yes, that was after one incredible winter).  This summer it was less so and then, day by day, was slowly decimated by the creatures below the earth.  And now…it is merely a shadow of its former self.  I’m making light of this and joking about it, but I’m not sure how to tell you how truly saddening it is to me.  I don’t know if any of this will recover, if it will ever look like it did.  I know I should not complain.  We didn’t have a fire here (knock on wood).  We didn’t lose our house and all our belongings.  We have not been displaced.    But Mother Nature this year has not spared a single spot on this planet I think.  And we have all been affected in some way.

And now, on that morose note, I bid you farewell.

No.  No animals were harmed during the filming of this footage.  The dogs may look a tad bit dismayed, but I can assure you it is more because their chipmunk-chasing capers were rudely interrupted for a pro-Obama photo shoot than because they’re wearing adorable Obama caps!!  The canines are fast losing patience with the farcical nature of the political arena and pretty much just want the darn thing to be over with.  They are convinced their human mother will then return to being a nice person instead of the crazy, wacko, she-who-yells-at-the-stereo lady who has been inhabiting the house. 

The daughter on the other hand is fired up and ready to go and asked the other day when she can vote!!!  Tonight she was giving her presidential address in the bathroom mirror about the great country of America and how awesome it is to be a democracy and free and everyone should come here to take part in it.  Not kidding.  She really said all that.  We’d just finished our Social Studies lesson in which we’ve been incorporating our Mount Rushmore visit.  So we’ve been discussing past presidents and their accomplishments and, if I do say so myself, we had a rather good lesson tonight on the topic of democracies versus dictatorships and immigration and the path to citizenship.  Honestly, she humbles me and it is such a scramble to stay one step ahead!!

Again, WE’RE IN!!!!!  Are you?  🙂

Yup.  Personal.  And I’m taking it personally.  And I’m a tad bit peeved.  Meaning…my danders up…I’ve got my Irish on…I’m seeing red…you get the idea?

I’m mad.

And not in the “off-my-rocker, insane, nutso, cutesy, madranchwife” way.

This time I’m seriously ticked.

So I called the momster (always a touchstone for when the world just isn’t acting correctly).  (I just realized that if you were reading that quickly, you might think I wrote “m-o-n-s-t-e-r.”  NOT.  I wrote “m-o-M-s-t-e-r.”  As in…my mom.  You know, the one who always loves you no matter what, who kisses the hurts and makes everything better.  Yes, I still call my mom when I need all of those things.)

Anyway…I called mom.

D: “You will not believe what just happened.”

Mom: “Are you OK?  Do you have a headache?”

D: “No.  At least I didn’t have a headache.  I just got out to my car {in the parking garage at the hospital in Cheyenne–for those of you who don’t know where I work on the weekends} and someone had plastered a huge, orange “DEFEAT OBAMA” sticker on my car!!!  Can you believe that?  What jerk thinks they can touch my car????  I feel so violated.”

Mom:  “Well, honey, you do have all those bumper stickers on it.  You know that when you put it out there, your support of President Obama, you’re making yourself a target.”

(Honestly, I’m not sure if these are the exact words, cause I was still trying to stop seeing red and trying to come back down to the surface of the planet.)

D: “But that doesn’t make it OK for someone to attack my car!  I have just as many rights to display my support/opinions as the next person.  I don’t go around vandalizing other peoples’ cars.  Are you saying it’s OK because I put the stickers on my car, announcing my belief in President Obama?”  (Note: voice rising in tone and volume with every word)

Mom: “No honey.  Absolutely not.  It is not OK.  But you need to be careful.  Just like you wouldn’t walk by yourself in a questionable neighborhood after dark, you need to be aware of the possibilities that could happen as a result of your actions.”

D:  “So they win.  I get intimidated.  I remove my Obama stickers and they win.”

Mom:  “No honey.  It is not black and white like that.  They do not win.  You simply have to be careful.  What if Gracelyn and you were driving somewhere and someone threw something at the car, injuring her or you?”

And with that thought, right there, I came back down to the surface of the planet we inhabit.  And the next thought was one of supreme sadness–the mad started to evaporate and was replaced by sorrow for the people that we have become.

I will have to explain to my darling daughter that there are those among us who would hurt us for our beliefs.  There are those among us who would vandalize others’ personal property simply because they hold a different opinion.  After all that I have tried to teach her about respecting others’ opinions, that other people may think differently than us and it doesn’t make them bad, that we can’t all be the same because what kind of world would that be…after all of that, I will have to explain to her why her “Obama Girl” sticker on the window next to her booster seat had to go.

And what do you think I should tell her?  That her mommy got scared of what could happen if some crazed person took offense to our personal beliefs displayed on our car?  That her mommy caved, tucked tail and ran, quietly shut up and fell back into place with all the others that have been silenced over the years?

??????

Is that what this country has come to?  What happened to my freedom of speech?  Displayed on my own personal property?  How did I infringe on anyone else’s freedom of speech?  (I’m seeing red again…just wanted to let you know.)

I thought we as a country had maybe learned some lessons.  You know…the one about an entire race of people being slaughtered because one blond-haired, blue-eyed German Catholic thought it his duty to exterminate the lesser ones.  Or the one about the Japanese Americans being herded up and forced to live in, let’s be honest here, prison camps because of paranoia.  Or the kind of big one about how people with different color skin couldn’t have a seat on the bus, or had to use a different drinking fountain, or were considered less than human.  Or the one about the signs posted in windows stating “Irish need not apply” or “No WOPS allowed.”  (Now granted, that doesn’t equate with the most egregious listed above, but it helps to prove my point.)  Or perhaps the one where the people that inhabited this continent first were also slaughtered, rounded up and forced to live on reservations (big word meaning ‘land that noone else wants?’).

When on this earth are we going to learn that we are all the same??  We are all human.  Period.  We may look different.  We may talk differently.  We may think differently.  But take all of those things away and we are the same.  Period.

So then why has it become alright to persecute those we deem to be less than?

Now…and this is extremely important…EXTREMELY IMPORTANT…I, in no way, equate the vandalism of my car with the attempted extermination of the Jewish race or with the abhorrent way in which people of African descent (though, really, if you think about it, don’t we all ultimately hail from Africa?) have been treated through the ages.  Or the Native Americans.  But it is a symptom of the greater problem…that there is an element in our country that belies civility.  There is no civility anymore.  We have lost the ability to engage in civil discourse.  To respect others differing opinions.  To allow others the opportunity to express themselves even if it differs from our beliefs. 

So, again, I ask…what do I tell my innocent, trusting daughter?

That, just like the woman who is assaulted when walking alone in a bad neighborhood after dark and ends up being castigated because she should have known better…I should expect my personal property, in this case my car, to be vandalized because I choose to display my personal beliefs and opinions?

That doesn’t seem like a very good lesson.  That doesn’t seem like a lesson that would empower the leaders of tomorrow.  How can we ever hope to change the trajectory of this nation if we cannot teach our children, the hope of our future, how to be civil with one another?

I’m rambling now because I’m tired.  But more than anything I am heartbroken.  The mad has been replaced with a deep grief.  Grief that instead of reveling in the wonders of this world, in the wonders of us as a human species, our children are growing up learning how to be cynical and jaded, or worse, thinking they have to hide their true beliefs to be safe.

How is that part of the American Dream?  How is that part of what the Founding Fathers had intended for this great nation?

On our recent trip to South Dakota (you know, that whole RV thingy we had going on), I wasn’t sure Gracelyn would get Mount Rushmore.  She is, after all, only 5 1/2 years old.  We haven’t done a lot with United States History yet in our home schooling sojourn.  She’s definitely got the whole American Government thing, but not so much the history.  I was blown away with what it meant to her.  She got it immediately.  Immediately.  And within seconds of us telling her the names of each of the carved presidents, she had picked her favorite.  George Washington.  She immediately saw something in his face that spoke to her.  Without hearing the history of the man, without knowing a thing about him, she knew she liked him from his face. 

That is the trust of a child.  The innocence of a child.  And we, as a nation, are dangerously close to losing it completely.

I will let you know what I decide to tell her.  I have already decided to take the stickers off the car.  I simply cannot take the risk that some lunatic out there would resort to physical violence against myself or the reason for my existence…the reason that we should all have…the blossoming of a child, the hope for the world.

I shall close with my most favorite quote from a phenomenal man, one that I will ponder tonight as I lay awake waiting for sleep to come.  Because somewhere, deep down inside, I simply cannot, I must not, let go of the hope or the dream.

“The work goes on.  The cause endures.  The hope still lives.  And the dream shall never die.”  Edward M Kennedy

Not that it looked worse this morning than I thought it would, but with the light of day it was still a stunning sight. 

I have been reticent to get truly bent out-of-shape about this, knowing that compared to other acts of nature across the world, we would be considered very fortunate.  That’s what I tried to tell the little one last night as she lay there trying to digest what was going on…whatever breaks can be fixed (helpful, yes I know, if you have Superman in the house), the circle of life dictates that death must occur at some point for life to continue to flourish, and that ultimately, this too shall pass.

My heart hurts this morning as I look out and see the changes that have occurred here in just the last two years that we have been here.  I’ve mentioned a bit about the brown, practically nonexistent grass, the brownish-gold hillside, the lackluster performance put on by the changing aspens this year…and now I add the changing landscape due to the toppling of the towering giants out there.  Isn’t that funny…I’m more upset by the way it will look out there without the trees than by the tree laying on the roof!!  Probably because I know the roof will be easily fixed (again, that whole Superman thing), but the aspens (particularly the first one to fall, the largest) had been growing for years.  In our lifetime here, we will not see the young ones that replace it grow that big.  But then, again, I think that I should not complain about a few trees falling as I know that this year, due to fire, flood, wind…Mother Nature really…so many have lost everything.  Lives have been shattered by forces that are simply beyond our control.  So…we are fortunate this morning. 

Sad, but fortunate.

(The downed evergreen you see is a BRANCH!!!  Off of the gigantic, GIGANTIC evergreen right outside the master bedroom, on the hill on the south side of the house.  I tried to capture a picture of just how gargantuous the tree is…I thought it was a downed tree when I first saw it, but it is simply a branch.  Albeit a rather large branch!)

For those of you far removed from the Hundred Acre Wood and the inhabitants thereof, maybe I need to remind you of the night that ol’ Pooh Bear met the Tigger for the first time and then spent the night dreaming of heffalumps and woozles.

Ahhhh…that’s exactly the book I should have pulled off the shelf to help the wee one get to sleep.  No, not to give her nightmares of heffalumps and woozles, but to show her that Winnie the Pooh and Piglet too, and Eeyore and Owl and Tigger all survived that very blustery night.

Cause the wee one was a mite bit scared tonight as the wind howled and the trees came down all around us.  We didn’t hear the first crash…well, I did, but I didn’t want to alarm her so I kept reading the bedtime story.  I went to check after I was done and saw the damage.  A rather large aspen had fallen and sheared off the gangplank ramp of her playset, landing just a few feet from the back door.  Branches were scattered everywhere.  As I stepped out to survey the damage, the storm door was almost ripped out of my hand.  It’s a fearsome sight to behold to look up into the night sky and see the tops of the towering aspens whipping to and fro.  These aspens in the back are so tall…75 feet maybe?  I’m afraid I’m not good at estimating length or height, but just believe me when I say they’re tall.  And thick too.  So to see this one lying on the ground was troubling.

Daddy reassured the little one that he could fix the broken gangplank ramp…not to worry.  And he then assured her (and thus me) that no others looked as if they would fall on the house.  We checked out the front of the house…nothing down that we could see, though the aspens in the front were whipping violently side to side as well.  Reluctantly we headed back to her room where we tried to get calm and trust that all would be well.  She was visibly shaken, tears streaming down her tired, little face as she worried about a tree falling on her room.  Incidentally her room is the safest one in the house as far as falling trees are concerned.  The only ones around are rock-solid pine trees, with very large diameter trunks, safely rooted in the ground.  We talked about the circle of life, that nothing lives forever, that trees grow for awhile and then they die.  She interjected with “unless we take care of them,” already attuned to the realities of our changing climate and the toll it is taking on our dear, sweet earth.  As we lay talking and asking for God to watch over us, we heard a rather large BOOM!  This started the tears again as we set off to investigate.  Only to find that one of the trees outside the back door had fallen on the house!!!  Daddy was coming to investigate as well and told us it hadn’t done too much damage to the roof.  As we stood watching the aspen ballet (more like a frenzied mosh-pit maybe) another one toppled to the ground! 

We watched as Daddy took the flashlight and confirmed for the munchkin that her corner of the house was safe, then once again headed off to bed.  The wind howling through the trees can be quite haunting.  Tonight it did get a bit scary as we lay listening to it.  I tried to pretend I wasn’t worried…I’m sure my little one knows me well enough to figure out when I’m bluffing.  But at least she fell asleep. 

I tried to capture a few pictures.  I’m not sure how well you’ll be able to see them.  I’ll take some in the morning when we can survey the damage a bit better.

Don’t worry.  I didn’t go spend a couple of G’s on new computers (like that’s ever going to happen…back to that soaring swine thing).  I raked the damn leaves.

It started out innocently enough.  We went out to go swinging.  And then, as usual, one thing led to another and I picked up the leaf rake that was so insouciantly leaning against the house (if a rake can be insouciant…but as this is my literary world for the moment, do indulge me…).  And before I knew it I’d raked for a good 30 minutes and had 3 GINORMOUS piles of aspen leaves for the munchkin and her dog to play in. 

There are three things I absolutely detest doing…sweeping the floor (over and over and over again, all day, every day), dragging hoses to water the gargantuan piece of land we call a yard, and RAKING THE GOL’ DURNED LEAVES.  (I am so not sure how to spell that, but don’t you think “gol’ durned” is fun to say???)  (Now that I think about it, maybe it’s supposed to be gol’ darned…or gosh danged…or…whatever…you get my drift, right?)

Anyway, as Gracelyn will tell you, mommy HATES raking leaves (and we say that hate is an extremely strong word around here, so we try not to use it a lot).  It just goes on and on and on.  And in the case of our “backyard” there must be about a bazillion, gazillion aspen leaves out there.  Aspen leaves as far as the the eye can see.  Now, on the tree they’re a breathtaking sight to behold.  But as soon as they hit the ground, it’s a totally different thing.  Though Gracleyn and I do like our aspen carpet (that’s when the golden leaves are still moist and have just fallen and the forest, when you’re walking through it, looks like it truly has a golden aspen carpet at your feet) and it smells so absolutely lovely when fall is in the air.  But as soon as they turn crispy and start crunching, one gets that feeling inside.  The icky one that says “get out there and get those leaves raked up or you’ll be sorry when it snows…and snow…and snows…and snows…”  Cause after it snows and snows and snows and snows here, those leaves turn to a huge, soggy pile of mush once all that snow melts.  And then you really MUST get out and rake them up.

So pick your poison.  Rake now, or rake later.  Today was chilly but sunny.  We wore coats and hats and gloves.  The spring is chilly too, with snow melting daily, the glaciers receding  inch by inch, revealing the thawing ground beneath.  With its layer of mushy, soggy, heavy, decaying leaves.  The earth is fragrant then, hinting at the secrets to be revealed once it warms up and begins bringing forth its bounty.  And the sun is out usually, beckoning one outside after months of being housebound.  Every once in a while you might see a green blade of grass, eliciting an almost giddy feeling knowing that spring is marching along and soon there will be summer and flowers and leaves and green everywhere you look!!! So for that, spring raking can be a blessing. 

Last year I did a bit of both.  I hastily raked the front yard before the first forecasted snow.  I was successful at removing every last aspen leaf from the area.  Then the snow came (it was early with many, many leaves still on the trees…I’ll try to find the pictures).  And by the time it was rakable in the back, I said forget it.  I’m not sure the pictures of the “back yard” I’ve posted allow you to gauge the immenseness of it.  Nor the sheer number of towering, mature aspen trees that drop their myriad of leaves.  I am not kidding on that whole bazillion, gazillion number.  Anyway, I gave up on the back and thought, what the heck??  We live on the side of a mountain–why the heck do I need a manicured lawn????  Then this spring, as the “backyard” glaciers receded slowly to the south, to the edge of the base of the mountain, they revealed the soggy mess left by the leaves I neglected to rake up.  So I set out with the resolve to rake a bit each day…just the amount that had been exposed by the melting snow and had time to dry.  Thinking that if I did a bit at a time, it wouldn’t be so overwhelming.  That worked for a few days until I got bored and irritated that I couldn’t just spend time outside playing with the tiny terrorist.  And that’s when my intense dislike (hatred if you will) of raking started to take hold.  It became a nuisance.  I had reveled in the wildness of our “backyard” and now I was trying to manicure it.  Aaggggghhhhh…

This year the yard (front particularly) is a very, very sore subject for me.  It has been overrun with some sort of rodent, intent on causing me intense anguish and grief.  The land is pockmarked with mounds of dirt (not gopher holes…those bastards stayed out in the pasture…until the hired six-gun and then the badger finished them off…but I digress…), with occasional piles of grass roots thrown up from below sitting on top of the dirt.  I still have to tell you about the flower garden, but my heart hurts too much just yet.  Plus, if I write about it, then it really becomes real.  Now I can sort of, sort of, still ignore it and hope that one of these mornings I’ll wake up, look outside and see it was all just a bad dream.  Hey, a girl can hope, right?

God I forgot where I was.  Oh yes, my decision about raking this year.  I had given up on the yard (both front and back) along about July and conceded to the little bastards.  Then, the results from the scant watering I had done seemed to vanish into thin air and the grass stopped growing altogether and then turned brown…and crunchy.  So I’ve tried to turn a blind eye to the utter destruction all around me, both from animals and nature combined.  I don’t know if the ground will recover or not.  I don’t know if there has been permanent damage to what little grass there was by those gol’durned critters.  Regardless, since I’d given up, I just assumed that I wouldn’t care about the leaves.  And as busy as we are right now, spending time raking leaves just wasn’t high on the list.

Until today.  The rake–that insouciant little rake, called out to me, needling, prodding, poking at me.  Goading me.  And I caved.  And before I knew what had happened, before I could even register it, the damn thing was in my  hands and I was, gasp, raking.  And I COULDN’T STOP.  I simply could not stop.  That’s what happens when I start raking.  I just keep thinking “well, just that little area over there…I could make a small, neat little pile over there…just a bit more and it’ll look so much better…yada,yada,yada…”

I need help don’t I?  Like maybe Raker’s Anonymous or something?  You know, for those of us with a raking addiction…who can’t stop raking, no matter what…who have no willpower to resist the first rake that comes along.  Irritating as hell is what it is.

Today I raked with my little partner though…and that helped a bit.  She thought it was so cool that she could finally help mommy!  And then we made a huge pile and she proceeded to throw them all up in the air and lay in it and bury the Max in it and a glorious, wonderful time was had by all.

So see…I can enjoy the raking…if I stay in the moment and breathe.  Maybe I’ll be alright after all.

Namaste friends.

One has to wonder.  This dependable old laptop (not really old…just a mere 3 years now that we’ve been together) is getting a tad bit persnickety.  Well, make that a lot bit persnickety.  Isn’t that such a fun, glorious word?  Persnickety.  Think I’ll start using that on a daily basis.  As in “darling child, why are you being so persnickety?”  Or “dear husband, you are one of the most persnickety humans on this planet.”  Ha!  I dare anyone to call me, little ol’ me, persnickety.  🙂  Actually, I just might have to add it to the gravatar down below.

Boy, I digress already.

So I tried to make the gramster a CD of the pictures from the National Lampoon vacation and darned if the computer won’t even recognize the CD drive.  I think it’s supposed to at least recognize it, and then tell me there’s a problem with it.  But not even so much as a glance.  And, unfortunately, me being the tech guru in the family leaves just a bit to be desired.  So I spent the better part of yesterday, a pretty, sunny (but cold) Saturday, trying to figure out what was wrong with this little gem.  Not to mention the fact that it won’t back up to the back up thingy that was working fine just a few months ago.  (Yes, I only back up the stuff once in a blue moon, but what can I say…not your average techie here.)  Anyway, I wasted the entire day trying to figure it out.  Then last night, when Mr. Man’s Man got home, for some unknown reason (I really don’t know why, as I truly know better), I asked him what he thought the problem might be.  The only answer I got was that perhaps it’s time to consider the new computers I’ve been dreaming about (it’s time to go all Mac-y in this household).  I looked at him incredulously.  Cause that was NOT the answer I was needing.  I mean, yes it would be lovely, but to the tune of a couple G’s.  Don’t think it’s going to happen.  Maybe when pigs fly.  Now that’s a cute little image isn’t it?

OK, enough of the soaring swine–then, late last night, I remembered vaguely this trusty old laptop hitting the floor, EVER SO GENTLY mind you.  And it was in it’s padded home, and it wasn’t that far of a drop, so what the heck? 

Anyway, just some thoughts zinging around in la cabeza this morning. 

I’m NOT going to waste another day on this thing.

Oh yes, do you know what that man said to me, after so sort of sweetly telling me to go spend a paycheck or two on new computers, “maybe, it seems to me, perhaps, you’re too dependent on the computer.”

AAGGHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHH.  Yes, he really said that. 

So…just to prove he is WRONG, I am turning this off and am going to go enjoy the sunshine and blue sky.  Though I simply REFUSE to spend it raking the bazillion, gazillion leaves on the ground out there.  Maybe we’ll swing a bit, or go for a hike.

Vaya con dios mi amigas and amigos!!