The big storm that was projected never made it far over the mountains; enough to drop six inches of new snow at Mt. Bachelor, but only a skiff here in town. Since Bob has a mid-week only pass at the ski resort and since I don’t like cross country skiing on weekends with a bunch of snow mobile yahoos, we never seriously considered a trip up the hill. Instead we went out to the field east of the hospital for the dog’s morning walk. We only covered a mile but that is the most Chami has done since her surgery. She was pretty gimpy by the time we got back but honestly I think she is having trouble with her non-surgery legs. The pain killers she’d been on until a couple days ago really helped with her overall body aches, not just the surgery. I’ll talk to the vet on Tuesday when she gets her stitches out to see if we can start her on something to help manage her general old age pain. Maybe I can take some too.

After a day of cleaning house and doing some office work we went to my folk’s house for BBQ’d Cornish Game Hens, salad, and we brought sweet potatoes to cook on the barbie. We’d planned to play pinochle, as is hour habit, but my parents couldn’t find their cards so we ended up playing Scrabble, which is not my favorite game. I find it boring and I’m just not that good with puzzles and numbers. I think it is more a game of math, spatial thinking, and memory, and has little to do with words. This night it wasn’t too bad since I won, though I only beat Dad by one point and Bob by nine. Mostly I got lucky and picked good letters.

We were skiing at Wanoga Snow Park by 9:30 this morning. It was Bob’s first attempt at skiing since his toe sprain. Though he was still in some pain the day was so perfect for skiing–not a cloud in the sky, no wind, 28 degrees, and four inches of new snow–that he kept going despite the discomfort. We played on a shallow hill, doing 3 to 4 tele turns per “run”. Well, I don’t know if you could call what Bob was doing a telemark turn, but he did change directions from time to time and got down the slope. Next, we moved off to the east, through the utility road pass in the dense forest, coming out at a clearing that drops off steadily towards town. From this vantage point you can look out on the whole of Bend, and the desert lands of Central Oregon flowing east to the horizon. I’d hoped to play on a perfectly pitched hill that has been mostly logged and is just right for my telemark skill level but Bob’s toe was getting worse so we turned back. On the return trip we were skiing directly toward Mt. Bachelor and the Three Sisters. The view was spectacular. During the last 20 minutes of the outing the snow was getting sticky so we quit a few minutes before reaching the two-hour mark so we could call it a fantastic day of skiing.

Back home the lovely weather just kept getting better and I couldn’t bring myself to sit inside working so I spent most of the afternoon working in my garden. I haven’t done that for six months and I can already tell I’ll have sore muscles tomorrow. I love getting my hands in the dirt. I don’t wear gloves and I pay attention to the bugs and grubs and worms and all the other hidden lives of the soil.

In some places the earth was still frozen and hard to work, others with strong southerly exposures, were dry and already in need of water. No wonder gardening is such a tactile and real experience for connecting with nature and the cycles of the season. Working in my yard helps me see with clarity the moods and energy of the earth, which in turn is an exact reflection of my own moods and energy. If you pay attention to this phenomenon perhaps you’ll notice it in yourself too. I’ve used the tool of gardening for many years to help me manage what doctors have diagnosed in me as manic-depression, or bi-polar disease. I’ve created my own relationship and understanding of this situation and prefer to call it the seasonal cycles of Dawn. Soon, I’ll have a draft of my book, The Nature of Depression, posted on this website. Perhaps my interpretation of my mood fluctuations and my approach to dealing with it (treatment??) will resonate with you.

Today was dreadfully cold and hugely windy, or so it seemed considering I’d finally shifted to living like winter was a thing of the past. It was a typical early spring day in Central Oregon with plenty of sunshine chased by just as many clouds; their shapes shifted into various abstract sculptures carved by raging high level winds: bows and flows of angels hair, and ice cream castles everywhere…  It spit snow for a while, then came a smattering of hail, then back to sunshine; all of it accompanied by the wind.  It made for perfect conditions to stay indoors and work all day, which is just what I did. Of course I kept humming the classic Joni Mitchel song. Since I don’t sing well it works better as a poem.

Bows and flows of angel hair and ice cream castles in the air
And feather canyons everywhere, i’ve looked at cloud that way.
But now they only block the sun, they rain and snow on everyone.
So many things i would have done but clouds got in my way.

I’ve looked at clouds from both sides now,
From up and down, and still somehow
It’s cloud illusions i recall.
I really don’t know clouds at all.

Moons and junes and ferris wheels, the dizzy dancing way you feel
As every fairy tale comes real; i’ve looked at love that way.
But now it’s just another show. you leave ‘em laughing when you go
And if you care, don’t let them know, don’t give yourself away.

I’ve looked at love from both sides now,
From give and take, and still somehow
It’s love’s illusions i recall.
I really don’t know love at all.

Tears and fears and feeling proud to say “i love you” right out loud,
Dreams and schemes and circus crowds, i’ve looked at life that way.
But now old friends are acting strange, they shake their heads, they say I’ve changed.
Something’s lost but something’s gained in living every day.

I’ve looked at life from both sides now,
From win and lose, and still somehow
It’s life’s illusions i recall.
I really don’t know life at all.

I spent most of the day at the cumbersome work of going through hundreds of my photos to select the best eight that I will have enlarged, matted and framed to display at my first public show on April 4, in Bend. I can’t decide if the frustration with this task came from not being able to narrow it down to just eight top notch pictures–out of about 800–or from the sense that none of them seemed quite good enough to share with strangers. Quite a contradiction in my self-esteem I’d say. But what’s new about that?

It was clear and sunny but the earth held onto winter with a stern grip. It only broke the 40-degree mark for an hour and the dramatic wind made it feel like the heart of winter. The tips of my many tulips and hyacinths turn dark with their freezing each night but they seem to thrive on it. They don’t die and more and more keep peeking above the earth. In another month I expect I’ll have a stunning kaleidoscope of color in the front gardens.

I watched the late night news hoping to learn that Hillary had turned things around but they weren’t quite ready to call Texas and Ohio so I guess I’ll have to wait until morning.  I vehemently want Ms. Clinton to win because I think she has the experience needed for this tough job, and because I want to show the world that a woman is capable of running the most powerful country in the world. Most people think that gender shouldn’t be an issue, and it is a small factor in my choice, but I’m a daughter of the women’s right movement, I marched and burned my bra. It irks the hell out of me that nearly 40% of Americans don’t believe “our country is ready for a female president”. This is a euphemism for women aren’t capable. I believe we are and that Hillary is and I want her to prove us all capable. However, I’m not going to lose any sleep over who wins tonight, or any other. I think Obama will do a fine job if Hillary doesn’t get the nod, and even John McCain will be leagues better than the Bush administration. No matter what happens, the politics of the world are going to get much better in a year. Let’s just hope Bush and his buddies don’t fuck things up too much more in the time they have left. I wonder if I’ll see the recovery in my lifetime of this planet, its people, and especially the American Constitution, after the disaster of the Bush/Cheney bullies.  

I woke with a backache and figured Sunday’s gardening finally caught up with me, until I realized I’d started my period. I rather yearn for the old days when menstruating was painfully predictable. And I look forward to the future when this will all be a thing of the past. I’m not at all fond of this in-between stage where my period sneaks up on me, showing up uninvited just weeks, or many months apart. It messes with my emotions more than ever, and not so much hormonally (though I’m sure there is plenty of that) but rather the emotional confusion of equivocation: am I a mensing woman who conceivably could still have children, or have I shifted to crone-hood, where wisdom and freedom and power define my feminity? 

After a short morning walk I took it easy for a while and finished watching 84 Charing Cross Road, a delightful movie about the bonding power of a shared passion for good literature. Anthony Hopkins was quietly perfect in his small role. Though I love Ann Bancroft I felt like she was trying a bit too hard to be unsophisticated. I think she is just too cultured for that. The film was set mostly in the 1950’s and a bit in the 60’s and for the first time that I can think of I felt a strong yearning for the simple innocence and respectability of that era. I cried during a couple of the more passionate odes to books and literature, And also when they put their glass milk bottles out on the front stoop in metal crates to be exchanged for fresh ones by the early morning milk man. I teared up at the cardigan sweaters, steeping of lose leaf tea in a porcelain pot, fresh baked bread on the dinner table waiting to be sliced and slathered with real butter from a little glass bowl. Most of all I was weeping for the long, evening hours spent with the company of books instead of the tele.

One of the things I like best about living at the ranch is the near impossibility of TV, therefore I read. In the movie, Hopkins read the William Butler Yeats poem, HE WISHES FOR THE CLOTHS OF HEAVEN that I must share. It isn’t quite the same reading it yourself, though do read it aloud, but I can’t get Sir Anthony to read if for you. Rent the movie to hear it.

HE WISHES FOR THE CLOTHS OF HEAVEN

HAD I the heavens’ embroidered cloths,

Enwrought with golden and silver light,

The blue and the dim and the dark cloths

Of night and light and the half-light,

I would spread the cloths under your feet:

But I, being poor, have only my dreams;

I have spread my dreams under your feet;

Tread softly because you tread on my dreams.

Bob left this morning for the coast with plans to be gone for almost a week, if the surf holds up. I’m looking forward to some time to myself to write, prepare for my photography show, and take long walks. He took Chami with him and though I’ll miss her (we get closer every day), it will be nice to get a break from all the special food prep and such. Rio’s leg is still hurting; this is the longest it has taken to heal. She just keeps reinjuring because she won’t lay low. I’ve closed the gate between our yard and our neighbors so their dog, Radcliff, can’t come over to play with Rio.

It turned out that I had to do lots of Terra Com work today, which I have mixed feelings about. It is nice to be making extra money this month but it just seems to consume me once I get into it and I have a hard time not letting it take over while putting my art on the back burner. It makes me feel like a sell-out. I suppose artists have felt this way for ages.

My friend, Jana, and her six year old daughter Maya, decided to come down from Seaside for a somewhat unexpected visit.  It is ironic that I often complain about not having many friends, or the ones I do have don’t often come to visit. Then when they do want to get together I get a little panicky about how it will affect the routine of my day. I always have so much pressing work to do that when someone does invite me out or come to town for a visit it often stresses me out and feels like more of a hassle than fun. I suspect this is a hint that my life is a bit out of balance. I know how important it is to make time for relationships, and then when I have to actually do it, I get bothered.

As it turned out they didn’t arrive until after dinner so I had all day to myself, which I was thankful for. I got lots of work done, the house cleaned, and was ready for visitors by 8 PM when they arrived. And of course, I thoroughly enjoyed talking with Jana for a bit before bed. I forget sometimes how important having girlfriends is.

Jana and I dropped Maya at the Mt. Bachelor ski school then we proceeded to cross country ski to Sparks Lake, and beyond. The day was so lovely that once we reached the lake we kept going south along the creek almost to the end of the big basin. When we spied a road that looked like it might circle back to Mt. Bachelor, creating a loop, we followed it for a mile until it became apparent that it wasn’t going to happen. By this time we had been skiing for more than two hours and I’d suggested to Jana on a couple of occasions that we should probably be heading back.  However, she was enjoying herself so much I wasn’t more insistent when she’d say, “Just a bit farther.” Of course we ended up back tracking and the last two miles was all uphill. It was hot by that time, more than 40, and we’d stripped down as much as we could get without ending up in just our underwear. I’d been planning on a two-hour ski and it ended up being more than five! Though I’d tried to keep my one water bottle filled with snow to melt for drinking water I’d eventually run out with a mile yet to go. I think I got a bit over heated and dehydrated because the last mile I was actually thinking I might have to stop and rest or thumb a ride with a snow mobile. I slowed down and made it okay, but Jana is so fit that she skated up the last incline to the Nordic Center as if we’d just been out for a little jaunt. I was exhausted but, as usual, once I made it back I was grateful for having pushed my limits.

We had taken two cars to the mountain because I’d wanted to head home from our proposed two-hour ski, while Jana planned to stay until Maya was done at 4. As it was I only got home a couple hours before them but it gave me time to take a long bath, drink a gallon of water, take a short nap, and make a pizza for dinner. When it was time for Maya to go to bed at 8:30, I was happy to hit the sack myself.

Jana and Maya headed home early with plans to stop and ski at Hoodoo on their way. We had a wonderful visit and I’m excited that they might come back in a couple weeks for another ski weekend. I really have to watch myself because I have such a tendency to withdraw into a hermitic existence. A bit later Bob emailed to let me know he’d be coming home that afternoon or possibly on Monday, depending on the surf outlook.  I pondered his return and realized I hadn’t had much alone-time since he left, what with Jana’s visit and all. I realize I’m a bit odd because I’m so comfortable being alone, it really isn’t a common trait in humans, but some people actually thrive as recluses. I don’t like being lonely, but I do need to be alone from time to time.  Living in town, with all its inhabitants, has been one of the hardest things about spending time away from the ranch.  Even in town, when Bob is away, I often go for days without interacting with others. I work alone in my home and go out into the wilderness to ski or hike. If I only get time for exercising on the Butte, I take a rogue trail that I created so I don’t run into other people.

I felt strongly that I needed some space for a while and I really don’t like it when Bob’s schedule is decided by the hour, or minute (based on the surf forecast). I won’t make plans with others then break them because Bob decides to come home. At the same time, Bob is my favorite person and friend so I do like to be home when he comes back to town after a few days or weeks away. The indecision is frustrating. So, I called Bob and told him how I felt and asked him not to come back to Bend for a few more days. I apologized if it hurt his feelings, which he admitted it did a little bit, but he understood and hoped the fairly bad surf forecast would be wrong and that he might still get in some more water time after all.  I was really pooped from yesterday’s big ski so I stayed home and worked some, cleaned the house, read, and took an easy 3-mile walk up the Butte; all alone, except for my dog.