NIGHTS AT HOME

I'm a happy camper tonight.  It's warm and cosy in my house and due to a whole day spent at home, it's clean here also.  Yeah the dishes are done, the floors vacumned, swept, mopped, and the furniture dusted.  Candles and lamps are lit in the living room and dining room.  The whole house smells of their floral scents and the spiciness of the chai brewing on the wood stove.  The herbs I am grinding to make medicines with add to the scents in the air. 

I always make medicines in a sterile area.  I burn sage and rosemary as well as certain candles dressed in oils that are supposed to clear the air and bless the work being done.  I play music, tonight, a CD made by a friend of mine who plays Indian flute songs   I start with prayers.  I work with meditation.  I sometimes finish with a start, like waking up unexpectedly, to find everything is done.  Making medicines is a fulfilling chore.  At the end I will have something made that will help a certain person.  It will have the prayers needed for the particular illness and the particular person.  The whole ceremony from beginning to end will leave me feeling clean, healthy and spiritually filled.

I was told this fall I had more lines of healing in my hands than the reader had seen before.  This is what I am supposed to do with my life and time.  I can help the body and I've had some luck and success with healing the soul.  I am growing and collecting as many medicinal herbs as I can this year.  Something tells me I will need them.  It's time to review and update my knowledge and renew my stores.  I feel a warning in my bones that I must do this.  It is time to use my gift and knowledge for others.  

In the meantime I will enjoy every second I can, all the colors, warmth and scents of the good life I have right now.  I'll realize how very lucky I am and recognize the fact things might not always be so easy.  It's time for me to start making my home a place where things of need can be found.

Jardin De Las Mujeres Sabias

That was the name on the sign this time.  Many times the name was different.  Once it was El Jardin de Serpente.  Another time it was the place of the Dragon's Blood.  I could seldom find it in the same place twice but I didn't come often.  I found it for the first time when I was 17 years old.  I was walking down Broadway having ditched school for the day.  I had hitched the 45 miles down to this end of Denver and was blissfully assured no one knew me.  They weren't related to either my mother or my father and they weren't in a hurry to report my whereabouts to anyone.  I had a backpack stuffed with thrift store and pawn shop treasures when I saw the tiny dark windows glimmering with candlelight.

It was early afternoon and sunny outside.  The shop seemed to produce it's own darkness, not a scary darkness, more a warm comforting thing.  When the door opened sunlight came only as far as the sill and then stayed out side and waited.  There were bells and tinkling sounds as the door pushed open stiffly.  The two little women knitting behind the counter looked up and nodded then went back to their work.  The oldest one came to the door of the back room and looked out.  She came out wiping her hands on her apron.  "Mi llama es Madre Maria ," she told me while I brought out my high school Spanish and informed her my name was Linda.

 " Linda es bonita," She laughed, I think now at my horrible mix of Castilian lisp and German accent layered over it.  One of the knitters had gotten up and brought over cups of tea.  It smelled nasty and I was to learn over the decades very few of the teas tasted any better than they smelled.  Each one had it's very own virtue, one gave health, another wisdom, and one they made for me often over the years carried patience in it's herbal blend.  That first day they gave me a tea for amour and laughed like young girls.

The shop had bundles of herbs hanging from the wooden ceiling racks.  The fragile ones hung upside down with cheesecloth bags tied to the stems around the flower heads.  Bottles of ground herbs lined shelves shaded from the meager light coming through windows crammed with little statues of the Virgin next to Santeria regalia and Voodoo pieces.  The walls were covered with black velvet pictures of Every Saint in the Catholic Calendar.  The floors were crowded with wooden and statuary representations of the Santos.  Sols were on the wall next to bundles of snakeskin.  Damiana and YlingYling sat on shelves with bottles and bags of every known or alleged aphrodisiac in the natural/unnatural world.  

Shelves in the darkest corners held black candles made of God only knows what materials.   Lucky Money Oil in tiny bottles stood next to Gypsy Love Oil and St. John's Wort.  Holy Water and Holy Oil were next to the Gypsy Neighbor Curse.  Every time I ever found the shop it was different.  The inventory changed rapidly.  I saw white carved witch knives and sacrifice knives carves in lacy details.  Lockets and rings that held herbs, curses and blessings made of stone that glowed strange colors were replaced by tiny dolls made in Jamaica and Top Hatted Men made on small islands in the Caribbean.  

For years I would have no need for the shop, the knowledge of the wise women, the strength involved in knowing they approved of me, of my path, my choices.  Then one day my herbal stores would be low in goods that could only be replaced by them I must find the store again. My life forces would be so low, so dim only one of their heinous teas could help me make it through yet another test of strength.  When my husband left us a week before my son's first skull surgery I went looking for them.  I took my son and gave him a sip of the bitter tea.  He made it through both operations with so much stacked against him.  I know the teas helped both of us.

When I gave love up in my life and dedicated myself back to the goddess I found the store again, miles from the last location.  One of the old women came out of an alley and pulled me into a doorway that hardly showed.  When I began the crone stage of my life I realized that I was close to the age of the women who had been in the shop for forty years of my life.  I wondered if they were even the same women, all the Marias, Rosas and Delphinas over the years, were their faces different?  Where did these women come from and why did they come into my life?  Why was I blessed to have their help, their herbs and their knowledge all these years?  I may never know and every time I look for them I'm not sure they'll be there.  I know each time I try to soak in all the smells, sounds, textures and feelings I can.  

Sunshine in the Dark Months

It was warm here two days of the last week.  It's February and warm days are rare, let alone sunny ones!  This may have something to do with global warming but at this point, I'm just grateful.  It's not hard to notice the way people respond to the sun here.  Many of the ones who wander into the Library have sun burns, not healthy maybe, but hard to avoid on a sunny day in the snow at this altitude.

Everyone's moods seem to have lightened up a little.  I can certainly feel it myself.  It's Mother Nature's way of reminding you of the promise of spring.  It makes it easier to hold on to sanity while stuck inside during the wind, cold and snow.  Usually this kind of weather that we call Chinook, comes a little later.  This has been a hard year though for all of us and I think the early warmth was especially needed.

Today while I spend time loading wood I'll get to feel the kiss of warmth on my cheeks, breath in air that isn't chilled and listen to the tree loads of birds singing in the next snow storm.  That short time of sunshine will mean a lot by the end of the day.

CABIN FEVER DAYS

The last two days in the high country has been heinous.  The winds speeds have ranged between level one and level two on the hurricane charts.  Although there was sun at various points it has been cold.  When I came in yesterday from walking the dog I had frostbite on my cheekbones.  Our walk, normally much longer, usually ends with me trying to convince Roland it's time to go while he runs around avoiding just that.  Not this time, he trudged up to the car and waited patiently for me to let him in, out of the miserable wind.  

He stood on the couch where he isn't allowed and watched out the window while I loaded up wood for the box.  I have a hammock pillow I throw on the ground so I can get on my knees without  too much discomfort and throw wood out from under my porch.  Step two is stacking the wood on the porch and step three is hauling it in from there.  Normally step three is a pain as Roland keeps trying to escape every time I open the door.  Yesterday he wasn't even trying to get out.  Smart dog!  Building a fire in this weather sometimes produces as much heat as the actual fire.  Most of the heat is pulled out the chimney along with the wind even though the damper is shut.  Even a degree or two is helpful though!

I roasted a bunch of cuminos last night and then ground them up for the enchilada sauce I'm making.  It simmered on the wood stove all night and I awoke to the smell of the lovely red sauce and the chicken slow-cooking in the crock pot.  By the time I get home tonight it will be ready to put together and bake.  Nothing makes me drool quite as much as a bubbling pan of enchiladas oozing with cheese and smelling so enticing.  Since the wind woke me so early I have plenty of time today to put things together.  Tonight I'll take the pans over to a neighbor's house and borrow the use of their oven.  Then I'll give my Dad half a pan of red and half of white.  I try to make something big twice a week so he has meals that only need reheated if he doesn't feel like cooking.

From the sound of things this will be day three of wind.  It makes people crazy and crabby not to be able to get outside comfortably.  This time of the year brings on lots of drunkenness and domestic violence from being stuck too closely with those you "love".  Since I really don't drink any longer I cook obsessively, much to my neighbors' delight as they get all the stuff I cook and don't eat!  I'm already looking forward to getting home from work tonight, pulling up the quilts, piling up the animals and eating in the warmth of my little hovel!

I AM SO OVER WINTER!

It is freezing cold here again.  The wind is up and the snow blowing around is sure to make driving loads of fun.  I just put on heavy wool hiking socks and my feet are loving it.  It has snowed here day after day while only twenty miles down the road it's been sunny on occassion and, dare I say it, warm?  It is -4 deg. and that may be the high point of the day.  It doesn't matter how hot the stove is it just isn't warm unless I'm sitting on it.

I can usually find beauty in this place no matter how bad the weather but I am sick of the wind.  I just had an email sent to me that asked what are the three things you want most this year?  All of the previous answers included...Let the wind stop blowing...This is the reason people go stir crazy.  This is what causes cabin fever.  If you stay inside you get depressed.  If you go outside you get cold and depressed.  Winter in the high country is not for the weak.  I know I have it better than the folks in the midwest with no heat or electricity.  At least I'm prepared for it and I have a wood stove.  Losing electricity here would mean losing water as heat tapes are the only thing that keeps my pipes from freezing up.

It's too nasty to go out and haul in wood this morning so I'm just putting on another layer of clothing.  Global warming will bring with it added winds.  I can't imagine people living up here if it gets much worse.  Although property costs will certainly go down, the ideal house will be under ground or dug into a bunker situation in the side of a hill.  By the time I get all the clothing on I need to go outside I will be tired enough for a nap.  Instead I will go to work.  It is very warm there.  Thank God

It snowed again last night.  It looks like snow is called for most of next week.  The dog is outside now with an inch of fresh powder on his back looking happy.  I wish my insulation was that good!

The wood stove has been burning all night.  For once in Empire there is no wind!  The heat from the wood is actually staying in my home instead of blowing up the chimney.  I'm not going anywhere today so I won't have to deal with the icy roads.  I'm looking forward to making fat home made noodles to go with the chicken and wild mushrooms that has been slow cooking since last night.  I'll put herbs in them and then let them dry on racks in my kitchen.  Tonight I'll throw them into that pot of chicken and broth and in a few minutes have my favorite comfort food.  

I'm going to take my camera and the dog and go hiking for a while later today.  I'm torn right now between reading some more of the "Life of a Storyteller" the old biography of Isak Dinesen, and going up town and having breakfast with the boys.  I may not even get dressed today having worn sweats to bed last night.  I'll throw on socks, boots , gloves and a major coat, who will know my night clothes are under all of that?  Pretty lazy huh?  

Sounds of Winter

This is how it has looked for days at my place.  The fog and snow from Berthoud Pass has come right down to my place.  Not only have we gotten quite a bit of snow already but two more storms are heading in.  Both of them are being touted as "two-three feet of snow" producers.  So was this last one and while they were right on the drop in temperatures, more than forty degrees, we didn't get two feet of snow on this side of the divide.

This morning I have been inundated by the sounds of winter.  The highway must be icy as I've heard one siren after another all morning.  The avalanche blasting has gone on for hours.  They need to get those cornices cleared out before those next two storms come in.  It's hard enough to get the roads reopened after a "normal" snow slide, let alone one that has gathered snow from several dumps.  As houses warm up here I can hear huge piles of snow sliding off the roofs.  The town plow has come down this road three times already in an attempt to get things cleared out.  My road is very steep and has only one outlet.  Often we are unable to get cars out of here when the rest of town is very accessible.

The neighbor's snow blower just kicked in, another winter sound.  The horses across the street are running around having a good time, blowing off some of that pre-storm energy.  The ravens who hang out in their barnyard repeatedly caw and take to the sky as the horses take yet another run around their area.  You can heard everything so easily when it is one of these icy cold days.  

The blasting just started again from the CDOT trucks and the sound of cars idling while they wait to get through the resulting snow drop just adds to the many sounds of winter.  You'd think it might be quiet on a day where the temperatures are beneath zero but you'd be wrong.