Bearteethies

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Beautiful, big backcountry.

Berries.

Great, noble dogs.

The company of an excellent friend (who is also an unofficial botanist so I came away SMARTER…and un-poisoned by berries…).

Starry starry nights.

Berries.

Great alpine fishing.

BERRIES.

Clean water.

Summer sausage cooked on open fires.

Sleeping in the dirt with my boys under a tarp and washing my face in the dawn.

First light — the holy of holies.

Wait, did I mention the berries yet?  The huckleberries, raspberries and thimbleberries were at their HEIGHT and we lallygagged as we walked, eating one berry for every single step we took.  It was decadent.  We had stained fingers and delighted tastebuds.

I’ve never had a summer like this before, one so stuffed with gallivanting and crammed with work.  I’m exhausted, but I am loving every moment of it.

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This Kind of Night

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Quiet, soft, moon-ish, the last of the wildflowers, camera shy, two-track, dust, happiness, hills, sunset, a pinch of pinot gris, a good book, and finally driving it home with two headlights.

Sunday Night

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[…brushed him for so long but could NOT get those spots off!]IMG_7695 IMG_7691 IMG_7679IMG_7703 IMG_7708IMG_7735IMG_7662I went to the barn with Jade tonight and we rode.  It was a perfect summer night under a beautiful sky, in the splaying arms of a cool night breeze with one of my best friends;  there were barn cats wrapped around my ankles and I had a grin plastered on my face the entire time.  Yup.  It was perfect like that.

Sometimes I don’t realize how badly I need my own horse until I am sitting on one, smelling those sweet old hay farts, neck reining, side passing, sitting a trot and rocking into a canter divine.  I’m ready.  I’m ready for my horse now.  I’ve been ready for ages.

My favorite thing to do horseback is drop the reins, put my arms in the air by my sides (not touching, but not totally relaxed); I close my eyes while allowing my hips to fall into perfect rhythm with the gait of my horse, I move my arms along with, as though I am walking — if you have ever ridden with me, I’ve shown you how to do this.  It feels like what it must feel like to be a centaur.

When I do it, I imagine I am a centaur walking up a mountain slope, step by step, steady and strong, serious and beautiful;  I am going to look at the stars to see what the future may hold.

Winning

IMG_7569I’ve reached the point wherein I am very, very fire season tired.  I’ll get a second and third and fourth and fifth wind.  I always do.  But for the moment, I am tired and waiting on that breeze, that thing to loft my wilted feathers and carry me skyward.

I stayed in bed this morning until 10AM simply because I felt ill equipped to face the day, the week…the month.  This month and August were not supposed to be like this.  I was supposed to relish spacious living, room to roam the backcountry with my fly rod in hand and my dogs at my heels, daily ten mile runs, watering the gardens in the cool of 9PM while sipping a gin and tonic after a decent day of work…

That moment when life takes drastic turns in a thousand different directions is when we fire wives (and otherwise) prove our fortitude, when we prove what we are made of, as humans; I’m in the thick of a proving ground right now.  I feel undignified, savage, scrambling, scruffy, exhausted.  I told a friend today that I just have to keep on doing everything I’m doing because if I let everything come to rest, I’ll never get it all up in the air again.  That loss of momentum is such a killer.  I’m sure some of you can relate, fire wife or not.  I just keep telling myself, “Don’t stop.  The burden of it all will thin out eventually and then you’ll see the benefit of hard work.  Keep pushing through it all.  Fix what is broken.  Make what you can.  Feed yourself good food.  Relax as deeply as you can once the sun goes down.  Answer the emails with authentic joy.  Keep saying yes.”

I simply must keep it all up in the air, orbiting and swirling at lofty heights.  I’ll break a thousand fecund sweats keeping it all there, but the effort boasts a greater result than the alternative.

I made it into the studio around 4PM today.  I didn’t get much done, but I was there, I made it.  I fought the chaotic trajectory of the day with all my might and I won.  I’m going to do it again tomorrow and then the day after that, because in the summer, this what I do, I fight hard and I win.

Bad stuff happens…but how about that beautiful sunset!

IMG_6344 IMG_6376 IMG_6394 IMG_6420What is it about some weeks?  I just spent the past three days tending to life maintenance and experiencing what my friends have been calling very-rotten-no-good-bad-luck.  Mostly everything is sorted out now, except for my camera lens replacement, which is in need of replacement because my camera was blown off a cliff shortly after I took the above image.

Alright, so the crap hit the fan here this week, but let me tell you what, I managed to soldier through all the sordid life details, fix what needed fixing (except the irrigation, I’m still tinkering with that, and the broken law mower), run a small business like a son of a gun, work in the studio with such a thankful and happy heart and I fed myself, great, summery, robust meals.  The problems of this week were meltdown inducing but I don’t remember crying or being self indulgent enough to freak out and wallow in crisis.  I simply gritted my teeth, worked from dawn until dusk and beyond, every night, and slowly the ship began to right itself.  Though I felt terribly overwhelmed, I didn’t feel angered by my circumstances or self-pitying; my focus was not on myself, it was shooting off in fifty different directions.  Stuff happens and you have to find a way to make the most of it, iron out all the wrinkles and build momentum again.  The sooner you do these three things, the sooner you get your groove back.

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Last night I ran a cutie pie fifteen mile trail run that was truly the very definition of magnificence.  I chugged that run so smoothly, dropping into low gear as I traveled, step by step, miles and miles straight up the West bench.  I was joyful as I ran, seeing deeper into the landscape as I went, feeling the air thin as I climbed.  I ran through the curves in endless switchbacks, tall grass brushing at my legs and hands, the dogs romping about with glee while tripping on their tongues, the cool of the scrub maple stands, the quiet of the aspen groves, the good company of the stately douglas fir and the views, the views were life altering.  I came down the same way I went up, creeping around switchbacks, scuttling over volcanic rock rubble, sun on my shoulders, empty water bottle in my waist belt, sweat drying in the wind.  I ran myself hollow and then step by step was filled up with only the very best Creation has to offer.  It was that kind of run, marked with the wildness that is restored when a human is reduced by the land and sky, made humble, made empty and so, transformed and filled to brimming once more.

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It has been lovely to be at home, here in Idaho, in my little farm house, gardening in my spaces, harvesting the fruits and vegetables of my yard, hanging out with my girlfriends, reacquainting myself with my trails and my mountains.  After arriving home from New Mexico, the very second I sat down in the studio and picked up my jewelers saw I felt stabilized, energized, brimming with impetus, forceful and calm.  It is with a morsel of regret that I am packing a bag for a trip to Wyoming today, but only a very tiny morsel of regret.  I travel, once more, to be with friends and my younger sister, to a state that is a stalwart sibling of Idaho and magnificent, to boot.  You’ll not hear any complaining from me!

The road is calling and I must go!

Until we meet again, be well.

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