‘Round Midnight Jazz recap

Mary Lou Williams in 1940. William Gottlieb/Redferns photo, via The Guardian.

I host a Jazz show on KUAC 89.9 FM twice a month. I’m a volunteer and it’s a public radio station, so I’m able to be creative, dig around and find weird stuff, take chances and make mistakes. I love the experience. Many of the sets I create for the shows are pulled together by intuition as I’m a pink little baby at the very start of my Jazz education. I read about Jazz, I look up artists’ information. I like to listen to “Jazz with Bob Parlocha.” Basically, I’m a self-taught enthusiast, so I’m always scrounging around for cool nuggets of Jazz. Every now and again, I come across a song that’s so groovy I can’t keep it outta my mind and I have to find out more about it. That’s when the playlist comes in handy.

I hand-write my playlists throughout the show and then post the info to the KUAC site for the data to be crunched, calculated and reported on, but also it’s for folks that want to find out what artist, song, album, label, etc. was included in the show. After I upload the information, I typically hang on to my playlists. Oddly enough, I ruminate on them and I often find myself referring to it, whether it’s over informal conversation, when I’m doing some research or when I’m creating my next show’s set. Eventually, though, the playlist out lives its usefulness and I feel guilty when I throw it away. Like I’ll need it sometime later or I should save it so one day my kids can flip through some old scrapbook when I’m dead and see that I played Duke Ellington’s “Solitude” just after 10 p.m. on June 24, 2014. I don’t know where the feeling comes from, but it’s there. So, today, when I came across a folded up playlist from my June 24 show, I decided I would do one last thing with it before throwing it away. I will use this playlist to dole out some light homework!

Here’s how the assignment works. I’m going to offer up a handful of amazing songs from my most recent playlist right here. I’ll provide some background on the particular song or artist and then I’ll include a link for people to listen for themselves. The task is easy, folks; I promise. All you have to do is read, click a link, listen and then let the tunes seep into your psyche. This is all for your own good, really. Jazz is like a Frankenstein smoothie for your soul and you’ll thank me later.

‘Round Midnight Jazz recap

The Dave Brubeck Quartet photo via JazzTimes.

Mary Lou Williams Trio’s “Hesitation Boogie”

The hesitation in this boogie created a moment of panic when I aired the song last Tuesday. I potted up the sound and began searching for the next selection when the music stopped briefly. My eyes flew to the board, then to the CD player. Everything was still operating just fine and I realized, “Hey, that’s the ‘hesitation.’ Cool.” With my full attention at that point, Williams scooped me up and kept me bobbing along with her key strokes and the baseline. Later, I would find that Williams was a phenom at the piano and was performing publicly by the age of 6. She arranged music for many Jazz artists, performed abroad and made a living as a musician from the 20s through the 1970s. The woman’s contributions were amazing – in music and otherwise. Google her.

Dave Brubeck’s “Time In”

Dave Brubeck was a lifelong musician from California. Although he played small gigs in his teens, he really began to hit the Jazz scene in the 1940s after a stint in the Army. Go here to listen to a great mash-up of his diverse range in style. I haven’t heard a Brubeck song I don’t like. He can be dreamy and ephemeral to brash, pounding on the piano keys. No matter what he plays, though, it just sounds good.

Dizzy Gillespie and Stan Getz’s collaboration on “Girl Of My Dreams”

Stan Getz and Dizzy Gillespie recording together in the 1950s. Photographer unknown.

 

So what happens when you pair a trumpeter — an innovator of the Bop sound — with a tenor saxophonist blowing the sounds of cool Jazz? Well, you get “Diz & Getz.” Dizzy Gillespie and Stan Getz paired up to record this album in L.A. in ’53, but it was released two years later on Verve. Despite the musicians’ differences, they blend beautifully on this album. “Girl Of My Dreams” plays homage to both, allowing the trumpet and the saxophone to weave their signature sounds into a melodious braid, now and again, breaking into short solos in the nearly three-and-a-half minute tune. It’s easy. It’s smooth and certainly worth a listen. Both artists are masters, yet this song showcases them as equals. Not because their solos are overt displays of all their skill, but instead snapshots of their ability to make the music sound so easy to create.

 

 

 

 

 

 

Words

Words are powerful things. Use them wisely.

Words have power. Words are packets of energy — negative or positive. I was reading about the importance of language and how once a word is uttered, the energy is released out into the world. It then is free to float around, impact others as well as the speaker. This energy spreads. It has power to transform what it comes in contact with and influence its frequency as well. I find this all very interesting and I got to thinking about the words I use, but also of the words that I just like. I’m a word nerd. I love the way many sound or the combination of their alliteration and definition. In a stream of consciousness mode, I wrote down the first words that came to mind that I like and what they mean. It was an interesting little exercise.

Elixir: A magical liquid that can cure illness or extend life.
Beloved: Dearly loved
Pastiche: Something (such as a piece of writing, music, etc.) that imitates the style of someone or something else.
Rhubarb: A plant with large green leaves and with thick pink or red stems that are cooked and used in pies, jams, etc. It can also mean an angry argument.
Equinox: A day when day and night are the same length.
Hubbub: A loud mixture of sounds or voices. It can also mean a situation in which there is much noise, confusion, excitement and activity.
Coup: An impressive victory or achievement that usually is difficult or unexpected. A brilliant, sudden and usually highly successful stroke or act.
Lovely: Attractive or beautiful, especially in a graceful way.
Rococo: Of or relating to a style of artistic expression that involves fancy curved forms and much decoration and was popular  in the 18th century.
Magma: Molten rock material within the earth from which igneous rock results by cooling.
Wonky: Unsteady, shaky, awry or wrong.
Juggernaught: Something that is extremely large and powerful and cannot be stopped.
Willy-nilly: In a careless and unplanned way.
Babushka: Usually a triangularly folded kerchief for the head.
Queue: A line of people waiting for something.

According to a DailyOM piece written by Madisyn Taylor, “Each word we speak has a life of its own, a vibratory signature that creates waves into the expanse of the universe.” She continues with “When we are conscious of the energy behind our words, we become capable of making beautiful music in the world. If we are unconscious of the power of words, we run the risk of creating a noisy disturbance.” What is the frequency of your words?

 

I AM the woman I always wanted to be

Six of Rods and the Queen of Cups drawn from the Intuitive Tarot on June 15, 2014.

I’ve made a breakthrough! Although my realization of this has only come about after pulling a duo of cards from my Intuitive Tarot deck, this awareness and passage to personal change has been months in the making. Perhaps, even, years. For some time, I’ve been in a slump. I’ve felt disappointed. Years ago, I thought I could be and do so much. I thought, I would live in a faraway country, have plenty in the bank, be a renowned writer and an advocate for change. I thought I could be extraordinary, but when I looked around, all I saw was simply ordinary. Maybe it’s a normal thing to be 36 and examine your life and feel like where did all the time go? Maybe not. But that’s what happened to me. But now, I’m letting go of that insecurity. It’s hard, but I’m making baby steps in the right direction.

I got validation of this choice. Yesterday I pulled two very potent cards from my deck: the Six of Rods and the Queen of Cups. Here’s the scoop on both.

Six of Rods: This card represents triumph. Success due to vision and hard work. A creative project well completed. Achievement, breakthrough. This card can also indicate the opening up of intuitive power and vision. Manifestation of a long-standing ambition.

Queen of Cups: This card typically represents a real person. She offers the gift of herself — it is up to others to accept or reject it. A woman that offers love and openness. Others must decide whether to drink from the goblet she offers, which signifies power. The Queen of Cups is a woman with a strong connection to the body and the emotions.

So, what do I make of this draw from the tarot? Well, I see myself as the Queen of Cups and the Six of Rods represents the path I’ve taken to get here. What does this tell me? I think I’m being reminded by the Spirit to celebrate myself. Be proud of the woman I am. I may not have a shelf full of books that I’ve penned or a passport full of stamps, but I’m here. I’ve had a million wonderful experiences that make my life special. I don’t have to have the world’s adoration, having my family’s and my own is something, probably EVERYTHING. It’s power and I need to embrace it in order to achieve more — spiritually and physically. Cool!

I’ve been re-educating myself on my spirituality and my intuition. As a young woman, I spent a great deal of my time, working on this. I read extensively on the subject and did a bunch of exercises to help nurture my ability. I had achieved a deep connection to Earth, my family that had passed and I had a knowing about others. I’m not saying I was psychic, but I had a deep empathy for others and I could sense how others felt. I was tuned in. Slowly, as my life got more complicated, access to my third eye became clogged. The loss of this powerful energy source that I had relied on left me tapped. I became more sick, more prone to the blues and my confidence suffered tremendously. Now, I’m opening my consciousness again and it feels wonderful. I’m feeling infused by positive energy and it’s great. This draw helps me see that I’m on the right path. My work certainly isn’t finished, but I AM the woman that I always wanted to be. I’m right where I’m supposed to be.

 

A picture is worth about 130 words

The misplaced behemoth that inspired me to think about transformation. What do you think it is? Leave me a comment!

I recently came across a project called Picture Postcards. I thought it was cool, so I submitted a shot of a funky thing our family found on a walk. In addition to submitting the photo, a short, post-card-like description was required. Well, in the process of deciding what to write for the photo submittal, I came up with a poem!

Misplaced Behemoth

This piece of bone sits alone,
with no trace of the skeleton it once was a part of.

A massive pelvis, lacking a spine,

I can think of no animal in Alaska’s interior

large enough to warrant it. The bone is an ornament,
situated near a heavily-walked path at a park.

Just how old is this decaying cairn?

How far has it come?

Any connection to its past has crumbled away,

like the fine powder that rolls beneath my palm

when I run my hand down the flank

of the misplaced behemoth.

No longer part of the scaffolding beneath muscle and hide,

it’s now home to a slew of shrews, insects and soon,

wild raspberries.

This puzzling find reminds me

the process of wane and rot

is also a blossom of reinvention.

 

Finding my way in the Big Apple and in-flight ramblings

 

Near Times Square, on 7th. It’s a whole different story in the evening!

A lot has transpired since my last post. Instead of trying to recap on it all, I’ve decided to start right here — where I’m at, at this very moment — and that’s in New York City. How did little ol’ me go from the wood pile in Fox to Times Square? Well, it’s a new job and a special training that’s taking place in one of the most vibrant places on Earth.

I’m sitting in an exorbitantly priced hotel room, clicking away on a laptop. I’m sipping water, watching “Diary of a Mad Black Woman,” eating dried mango and trying to relax my poor feet. You see, I failed to bring the right shoes to the Big Apple. I brought flats and heels and neither provide the cushion and comfort needed to maneuver the streets and see the sights after a long day of training. I had a feeling when I threw my shoes into the suitcase before leaving home. I did a double-take on some tried and true trainers I wear when I go to the gym, but I decided against it. I thought they weren’t fashionable enough, but now my vanity has left me with blisters on the bottoms of both feet. There is an upside, though.

The upside is the collection of shopping bags on the bed. Today, I walked with thousands of others around Times Square and shopped some of the most bizarre, crowded and visually arresting stores. I’m not kidding! Visually arresting. The H&M here has a two-story display INSIDE the store that’s currently flashing Gisele Bundchen in a bikini top and simulations of confetti swirling and throbbing to the

Think VERY CAREFULLY about the shoes you choose to take to New York. I did not and had broken, blistery feet the whole damn time.

beat of dance music. The Toys R Us has a flippin’ Ferris Wheel IN it. Everything’s loud and brimming with masses of people in this little section of the planet. It’s like a thriving hive, with millions of beings in a hurry to complete a myriad of tasks. It’s chaotic and beautiful and draining and thrilling and annoying and exciting all wrapped up into one unforgettable experience. I’ve walked through a throng of junior high kids on an organized trip of the city. I’ve accidently photo-bombed teens trying to get the perfect selfie on Broadway. I’ve declined to give money to the homeless and been yelled at. I’ve purchased a sandwich from a food cart on 7th. I thumbed through I ❤ NY postcards. I’ve gotten lost. I’ve wished I could throw the ear piece and phone of my cab driver out the window.

***

I brought a book. There is an in-flight movie. I could sleep, but right now I just want to write. So, what can I tell you about? Well, my flight is delayed. A man two rows behind me had a series of seizures while our plan was waiting to take off. As a result, the flight attendant informed the captain and our plane returned to the gate. We’re late, but that’s okay. I feel sorry for the guy. He spoke little English, was out of it, a little combative, and didn’t want to get off the plane. It took a doctor, two EMTs, three Port Authority Police Officers, a translator and a flight attendant to get him off the plane. He seemed embarrassed. Everyone gawked, including me.

The Zach Brock Quartet at the Jazz Standard.

I spent my last evening in New York by taking in some live music at the Jazz Standard. The little club is in the basement of Blue Smoke in the Murray Hill area of Manhattan. It was a great joint, known for the artists they showcase and the barbecue it serves. Last night, I watched a jazz violinist and his band in the early set. The group was the Zach Brock Quartet and they played songs from their new album, “Purple Sounds.” Although it looked delicious, I didn’t order a rack of ribs served up Memphis style. Instead, I had homemade barbecue chips served with bacon bleu cheese dip. It was utterly delicious. I’ve been to jazz clubs before, but it’s been a long while. What’s cool about jazz music is that the artists have a real affinity for the music. They know their history, revere artists that have come before them and can find a way to put a new spin on any of the old standards. In jazz, the focus isn’t solely on the vocals, but on all of the instruments. Everyone works hard, everyone gets their solo. There is an energy that’s created by this love for music and camaraderie. You can see it painted on the faces of the

This guy made me dinner one night. He was the nicest person I met on my trip!

musicians and you can feel it in the crowd. Last night, I looked around at the other folks in the dark club and they were all different ages and races and nationalities and everyone was grooving. A woman with a southern accent to my left was slapping the table and stomping her feet. A man seated beside me, would pull out a small notebook and make notes throughout the set. He’d close his eyes and nod his head to the rhythm. A Kurt Cobain lookalike who came alone and sat solo at a table for four sat dead-center of the stage, in the first row. He seemed to be painfully shy. He barely moved and was all hunkered in on himself. When he ordered his dinner, he seemed embarrassed. However, when each song ended, he would, for a moment, erupt into a fit of clapping. Three ladies to my right that seemed to be speaking Italian were disappointed the set was over within an hour. They wanted to hear more as they chomped on their French fries.

***

Rosie O’Grady’s was the first place I had dinner in NYC. Tasty food, nice atmosphere, easy access to my hotel. Nice.

I’m flying somewhere over Pennsylvania right now. I can see that we’ve just begun to fly over Lake Eerie. The water is a blue-green that I find surprising. I can smell in-air meals and I want one. I don’t care if I have to pay.

So, what’s waiting for me when I get home? I hope my family! They spent the week in the Chugiak/Eagle River area and I hope they’re home by the time I get back to Fairbanks. It’s been just a few days, but I miss them like crazy. I know they miss me, too. When I spoke to Shane he asked if I was lost. He wanted me to find my way home, so I could hold him on the couch. Awww. Poor little guy. Adam said the boy needs to learn how to take care of himself a little bit more. He’s right. Shane is a momma’s boy for sure. Gabriella’s more independent and, if she’s with her dad, she’s good to go. I can’t wait to see their faces when I hand over the treats I got for them in the city. It’ll be fun. I know they’re spoiled, but I love ‘em, love ‘em, love ‘em!!!

This baby won the Pulitzer.

I’m rambling now and the food and beverage cart is at my row. I better tell the flight attendant I want a water and a Snack Pack.

***

I just finished The Hours. I blasted through the book in record time. It was difficult at first. The long-winded descriptions of every trace of a thought or emotion among each of the characters in the book’s three simultaneous narratives is difficult to keep up with. It was hard to sort out who was who. But, much like a book written in dialect, once you’re brain gets used to the style, you can begin to immerse yourself.

So how did I like the book? Well, I just gave it a four out of five stars on GoodReads. I can see why it’s lauded by critics. It’s certainly very interesting in its structure. The weaving narratives are quite appealing. The subject matter is interesting too. The longing for death (or is it the longing for life?), while coping with a never-ending highway of the ordinary and mundane. Female desire to break out of prescribed roles and people in different eras grappling with depression. All of this is haunting and lovely. When I finished the book, I read some of the reviews online. Folks were very polarized. Many hailed this as a true piece of literature that will stand the test of time and it being every bit worthy of the Pullitizer Prize it won in 1999. On the other hand, people HATED it. Some claimed to only stick with it because it was endorsed by Oprah and they believed it must somehow turnaround or get better by its ending. One of the most critical reviews blasted the female characters – stating they were whiny and entitled.

I’m still processing the book, but I’m very impressed by the author’s ability to reach inside the complicated mind of a woman and put words to the emotional turmoil that’s sometimes there. I’ve never considered suicide like the characters in this book, but I could relate to their desire to disappear and leave all of the obligation behind. For wishing that being a care-taker was enough. Wishing for happiness or freedom or greatness that seem out of reach. Wishing for autonomy, but also being deeply in love with those we’re connected to. For someone who often feels the tug of all of these desires, I was impressed that the author so adeptly portrayed these complicated and conflicting emotions. It’s difficult to simultaneously experience both love and hate, regret and hope, pain and happiness, freedom and bondage. Let alone craft a novel around these conundrums. It’s amazing how complex God made us.

***

I’m not sure what the deal is, but I’m surrounded by kids of all ages. What was annoying at first is now humorous. They’re running the flight attendants like crazy! They’re not rude or anything, but they have endless requests – from trash to give away to wondering how to get out the life jackets to switching seats to how to work the movie players to more snacks to hating the brie on the cheese and fruit plate. I had to tell the young lady beside me that it wasn’t cheesecake! I imagine that biting into a wedge of brie and expecting cheesecake would be pretty horrible!

***

My flip flops just came apart.

 

 

It’s that time of year

Peekaboo! Gabriella suggested this pose.

…you know the time when you switch into full-swing freak-out mode because Thanksgiving is already over and now you need to get your butt in gear for Christmas. Well, I’m faring pretty well, despite the fact that it’s that time.

Thanksgiving was wonderful. It was low-key – just our family – and we had a fairly manageable dinner. There was a 13-pound turkey that I was afraid didn’t thaw out well enough. Turns out it was just fine. There were mashed potatoes, a green bean casserole that Gabriella helped to make, stuffing that I forgot about, homemade cranberry sauce, a terrific salad with walnuts and bleu cheese, white wine, cheese cake, pumpkin pie and banana cream pie. After reading back through that list I can’t believe I said that was a “manageable” menu!!!

Anyway, I had been bragging for days about this bottle of Stag’s Leap Merlot that Adam and I had gotten as a treat for our Thanksgiving meal. It turns out, we were so full that we never got to it. Now, we’re going to relish it at some point during this long weekend. I still can’t wait!

A big “CHEESE!” from Shane!

Today is Black Friday. I didn’t get up early, I did all of my super shopping right on my butt in front of the computer. I got some amazing deals and even took photos of the kids and then used them in our family Christmas cards, which I ordered today. I feel like I’ve been very productive. Now, I just need to get dressed. It is after 6 p.m. after all.

 

Kids and cameras

Sweat and dirt on this girl’s face after soccer practice!

My phone is a crutch. Judge if you want, but I often rely on my phone to keep my kids entertained. I’ve downloaded a few apps for the kids to play with, but the thing they are most enthused about is the camera.

Yesterday, Gabriella took more than 80 photos in less than two minutes time. She’s a true shutterbug. Today, when I went back through to delete the masses of photos, I came across a few that had me laughing. I’m posting them here because, well, I think they’re funny. Enjoy! All photos by Gabriella, my four-year-old.

 

 

 

 

Don’t know.

Another selfie.

Hey, Shane! Say, “Cheeeeesseee!”

Shane wants the camera from his sister.

Yes, all of these photos were taken in the back seat of my vehicle on our drive home.

 

Because a picture is worth a thousand words

This poor ol’ blog has been neglected for several months. I don’t have the time to go back and explain all of the highs and lows from the last few months, so I’m just going to post some photos. That should suffice. Right?!

I love these shoes. I wanted Adam to buy them when we were shopping in Anchorage in early May. When I showed him, he just looked at me and said, “Nah” and shook his head.

On our family trip south, we explored the Alaska Wildlife Conservation Center on Turnagain Arm. That’s where I snapped this photo.

We spotted mountain goats while driving along the Seward Highway. The mountain goat is the tiny white speck above Adam’s head. Hey, cool sun roof.

Fairbanks is a small town, so if you’re related to this person, I’m sorry. BUT look at the horrible hair! The two-tone ‘do is NOT becoming. Yes, I was on a shopping trip for diapers, cat litter, milk and other items that prove I’m firmly planted in Momville.

Shane’s train! My little boy was so excited to see a real-life train zip by us on the Seward Highway. The people inside were probably very entertained by our waving and picture-taking.

All I wanted for Mother’s Day was some good perfume. I got some time to myself in Nordstrom and selected my own gift. I went in for the new Kate Spade scent but was up-saled and walked out with this glorious fragrance. It’s my new fav.

The fam went to the Noel Wien Library Foundation book sale. There, the kids picked out books. Gabriella chose this one. The title is quite catchy! 🙂

That’s a brown bear in the water (behind this electric fence). The bear was at the Alaska Wildlife Conservation Center. When I was taking pictures of the bear I was listening to a tourist talk to the on-site biologist. She wondered if they just dropped cows or moose into the pen for the bear to attack and eat. I’m happy to report the AWCC does not do this. The biologist said the bear has been there since it was a cub. It doesn’t know how to hunt.

Wood bison. “Prior to their disappearance, bison were an important source of food for the Gwich’in on the Yukon Flats.” I find this very interesting.

My cat, Nike! He’s a shape-shifting warlock cat. He rules the upstairs of our house.

Brother doves. Photo by Gabriella.

The kids swinging (with Adam) on our first trip to Pioneer Park this season.

Self-portrait by Shane. My kids get ahold of my phone and take tons of photos. Then I have to go back and delete them all. The last time I went through the deleting process, I got rid of 186 pictures of our TV where Dora in Fairytale Land was playing.

Kyan River Cheap was born! My best friend Jasmine had this cutie on May 21. He weighed 7 pounds, 11 ounces.

Gabriella’s first soccer game of the summer took place during a monsoon. That’s her with a towel on her head! She don’t care!

 

Me and the kids at Pioneer Park. BTW, Adam can’t take straight pictures and it drives me nuts.

Shane “The Hair” Gibler at Pioneer Park.

Past, present, future spread of a recent tarot reading.

Random self-portrait at work.

The playlist created for Patrick’s birthday in “The Perks of Being a Wallflower.” I want to burn a CD with these songs on it. Don’t pay attention to my horrible nail polish (Jeez!). A favorite quote from the book: “So, this is my life. And I want you to know that I am both happy and sad and I’m still trying to figure out how that could be.” Go read it.

Me at the mic in the KUAC studio. I’m now a volunteer DJ. I’ve got a jazz show. How cool is that?

 

“Filet mignon, please!”

Yep, that’s filet mignon in a Hello Kitty kid’s plate.

Growing up, I was lucky. My parents always included me in their dinners at fancy restaurants and, well, I got accustomed to it. When the server would ask my parents what I wanted, I would pipe up in my little voice and say, “Prime rib, please.” I wasn’t game for kids’ menu fare, I liked pricey steaks and virgin drinks. I had an upscale palate and would order up a meal equal in price to the high-end entrees of the adults at my table. My parents bring this up from time to time and chalk it up to me being a little high-maintenance. Well, now I have my own high-maintenance little boobers and I’m getting a kick out of their preferences. Sort of.

On Sunday, Adam presented the fam. with some bacon-wrapped filets for dinner. He was all proud and stuff because he had purchased the meat from a Montana farm where the cattle are grass-fed and hormone free, creating some wonderfully succulent meat. Well, our daughter ate an entire filet and most of both of ours’. She asked what it was called. When we told her “filet mignon,” she had to practice the words a bit, but she got it. Now, the words just roll off her tongue like they were always meant to. Now I’m left wondering how we will ever manage to fund a household where the toddlers prefer a dainty filet over a corn dog.

 

How do I survive the cold?

Gabriella comes out of the bear den replica. She was proud to report there was actually no bear inside. Hooray!

Did you know that a bear can breathe only once every 45 seconds? A ground squirrel can drop its body temperature below freezing. A chickadee eats 60 percent of its body weight each day and small wood frogs freeze solid! That’s how these animals survive the cold. The University of Alaska Museum of the North held a Family Day to showcase its new exhibit, “Hibernation and the Science of Cold” on March 9. It was informative and fun! The kids found interesting things behind low doors, learned about the subnivean world and I was awed by the curled up ground squirrel hibernating in a special chamber for all to see.

The exhibit spotlights Institute of Arctic Biology research, but it had a profound affect on me. It made me question, how do I survive the long cold spells in the far north? Well, here’s what I came up with: Coffee — lots of it, an extension cord for my vehicle to fire up its oil pan heater, books, a wood stove, appreciation for the surrounding landscape, good friends and family.There’s more, of course, but these seem to be the main things that get me by. I’m not all that different from a vole scurrying beneath the snow in an endless maze of chambers. I just push on, try to stay warm, stay safe and find good grub. There’s a poem in this realization. I just need some time to tease it out. Stay tuned…

I love this word. Oddly, it’s not in the dictionary on my computer.

Shane thought he was gonna get Grandma on the phone. Instead he was listening to a scientist talk about research on hibernating bears.

 

I accidentally took a photo of myself. My phone’s camera is still broken and I was using Adam’s mammoth device.

Look at this little guy! He’s tiny — we’re talking like two inches in length. A perfect owl appetizer.