5th Remote Control

This weekend Kevin put in our digital converter boxes. Yes, our TVs have rabbit ears as we don't watch enough TV to justify a cable bill. Those rabbit ears look good with our Atari 2600.

So far, things look pretty good. We're getting occasional pixelation and glitches, but that goes away quickly. We're also getting four BYU channels, four KUED, and three UEN. So it looks like we'll get plenty of the public television, which is about 50% of what we watch anyway during the 1-2 hours a week the TV is on.

We're counting our blessing because our neighbors have had some trouble getting any picture to show with the new converter boxes. They get "no signal" all the time. The only thing I don't like is that we have to change channels through the converter box but we have power through the TV. So we have five remotes: converter box, TV, DVD, VCR, and stereo. That's going make for a lumpy couch once the remotes find their way to their natural home between the cushions.

Peach Pie

I've posted on peaches, and I've posted on pie, so it was only a matter of time before I posted on peach pie. This is what Kevin and I made together, our first pie of this variety. I made the crust, he added spice and sugar to the fresh peaches, and then Kevin put the top on. Can I tell you it was fabulous? When you taste it, there exists nothing but the pie.

Lovely Deseret

This past weekend I accepted a call to be a teacher at church in Relief Society, which is the women's meeting. Ironically that same day at church I witnessed three mortifying comments made in public that hurt someone else in attendance (on tattoos, child discipline, and politics). Now I am thinking through the best ways to handle these types of comments that will inevitably be raised when I am leading the classroom.

Handling these non-doctrinal (or what I guess I mean to say is non-Christlike) comments with delicacy is never easy. While I have never used church as my personal political forum, I don't want the views of the few to be unduly squashed by the views of the many. But I also want people to feel safe to comment in class, even if their comments aren't perfectly worded. I think church, including the church classroom, should be a place where everyone is welcome. Bring your tattoos. Bring your noisy kids. And, hey, it's OK to think this war was a bad idea in the first place, even if you're in a small minority here in our lovely Deseret. I will try to deflect critical comments directed toward you.

And if you make one of these types of comments that I dread, please know I will do my best to see past it and get to the heart of what you mean to say. In essence, we'll all just have to do our best.

Enough to Be on Your Way

I discovered this James Taylor song about the Southwest today. Yes, I've heard it for years, but today I actually listened to it and absorbed its images, beginning with the sun that shines on both sorrow and joy. Appropriately, I first learned to love his melodies and lyrics on a college road trip to Las Vegas, crossing the Great Basin and skimming the Colorado Plateau. The powerful image of sending his deceased lover "up a smoke stack" to return her to "what she knew the best." These heartbreaking images call me back to this place I call home.

The sun shines on this funeral
The same as on a birth
The way it shines on everything
That happens here on Earth
It rolls across the western sky
And back into the sea
And spends the day's last rays
Upon this [messed]-up family
So long old pal

The last time I saw Alice
She was leaving Santa Fe
With a bunch of round-eyed Buddhists
In a killer Chevrolet
Said they turned her out of Texas
Yeah she burned 'em down back home
Now she's wild with expectation
On the edge of the unknown

Oh it's enough to be on your way
It's enough just to cover ground
It's enough to be moving on
Home, build it behind your eyes
Carry it in your heart
Safe among your own

They brought her back on a Friday night
Same day I was born
We sent her up the smoke stack
And back into the storm
She blew up over the San Juan mountains
And spent herself at last
The threat of heavy weather
That was what she knew the best

It woke me up on a Sunday
An hour before the sun
It had me watching the headlights
Out on highway 591
'Til I stepped into my trousers
'Til I pulled my big boots on
I walked out on the Mesa
And I stumbled on this song

Oh it's enough to be on your way
It's enough just to cover ground
It's enough to be moving on
Home, build it behind your eyes
Carry it in your heart
Safe among your own

Or, if you prefer to listen to the southwestern red rock music video.

Autumn Beauties

While running a mid-day errand yesterday, I saw a woman on the side of the road harvesting sunflowers. She had a large tub in which she placed 20-30 cut flowers. They were cheerful and bright, a growing testament to late summer sunshine. I felt an urge to jump out and join her, to get a large bucket bouquet for myself, but I had to continue with my task.

Ever since, my awareness is increasing of sunflowers populating all the places I usually pass in my commute: in yards, in vacant lots, on the side of the freeway and on street corners. These are the wild-weed beautification of the urban desert valley.

The only place that are not, it seems, is my yard. Why is that? I've got a huge place with many wild things growing. Sunflowers belong here among the sweet peas, the wild rose, the high mint. My garden is simply craving these autumn beauties. For now I know what I'll be welcoming into this space next year.

Something Better

And to make up for posting that nasty foot photo, here's my favorite one from the garden Saturday.

Here come real stars to fill the upper skies,
And here on earth come emulating flies,
That though they never equal stars in size,
(And they were never really stars at heart)
Achieve at times a very star-like start.
Only, of course, they can't sustain the part.

-Robert Frost

The Joy of Callouses and Blisters

A warning to my more sensitive readers: this post is about feet. Well, it's about feet, and legs, and hips, and gripes that are now eighteen months old. The thing is that I love to run. I love it because it's hard, efficient, and intense, so I get all the added benefits of an exercise that is all consuming for a girl on the go.

But last year I hit a snag. I won't go into the long story of pain and diagnosis, so to make it short, I have a chronic IT band issue caused by supination, a bow-legged, outside-edge-of-foot way of walking and running that I just can't help. That has kept me in pain for eighteen months, and it's kept me out of my running shoes for almost a year. But finally, bit by careful bit, I've been working my way up to this:

Yes, that is a callous and a blister (hey, no one ever said runners have pretty feet). And to me that means victory. I don't even mind that pain. I'm working carefully on my hip with daily stretches and a killer hard foam roll to smooth out all the tight spots. In the last two weeks, I've successfully been on five runs. Sure, the runs are short and nothing like what I used to do, but when I compare it to where I've been, it's a dream.

Red Foothills

I spent the morning hiking the trails east of Red Butte Garden. While there is a surprising amount of flowers blooming, I can also detect the earliest signs of autumn in the foothills.

I am excited for the new season, but I also feel the need to store up the pleasures of summer against the approaching season. Things to keep (even if only in a feeling of a memory) from this summer: sunlight, nighttime crickets, long drives and road trips, good books, watercolors, and of course photos of flowers and gardens to mark my first year of devotion to growing things.

What will you store from this summer?

Life is Dancing the Twilight Blues

Consider this thesis, that we are drawn to nature because nature has a way of being. Nature doesn't do so much as it is, and this is this peace that results from being congruent with one's divine nature. While we run around half asleep and in conflict, it's this peace that appeals to us on a higher plane.

I recently read a book that reminded of some of the spiritual awakening I had when I was a college student reading the Tao Te Ching. All the doing we have in our lives actually distracts us from being who we are meant to be. Eckhart Tolle says, "Life is the dancer, and we are the dance." Life plays us; life interprets us. The best I can be is mindful of the present moment. I certainly can use the practice of being more in tune with the present moment, and I think nature is one path that can teach me how to be.

Peaches

There are a lot of things I love about late summer/early fall. I always loved going to school, taking new classes, wearing new clothes. Now I really love the fresh abundance of vegetables in farmers markets and home gardens. I could eat tomatoes with goat mozzarella and olive oil every night for dinner for a month or two before getting sick of it, and I've made a couple loaves of low-fat zucchini bread that are so delightful for breakfast on the run.

One thing that I have always loved is the season of peaches. Growing up I had several peach trees in my delightful backyard. I remember strangers would sometimes see our trees and knock at our door to see if they could take any of the loads of peaches off our hands, and my mom was happy to comply. Now my current home has a plum tree and a crab apple tree, and as of Saturday, our very own peach tree.

Not only did Kevin surprise me with the tree, but he went to all the work to pull out the allergy-inducing forsythia and plant our new addition. Sure, we'll have to pick any forming fruit off for the next couple of years so that the nutrients go into the tree, but that's doable. I am just looking forward to the chain of events. One of the few truly "domestic" things that I can do is bottle peaches like these in my pantry:

And then of course, that leads to lots of this when it gets to be autumn:

Stop by and I'll make you some cobbler sometime.

A View Through the Curtains

A 12-minute drive and a swift hike up a steep, steep canyon puts it all into perspective. It is amazing this is all it takes to get above it all.

Now, for this cause I know that man is nothing, which thing I never had supposed.

I mean look at us. We're ants.

Simple Gifts

When true simplicity is gain'd,
To bow and to bend we shan't be asham'd,
To turn, turn will be our delight,
Till by turning, turning we come round right.

I have had this Shaker tune in my head all evening. This is a beautiful day of simple, delightsome gifts. I got off work at 5:00 (on time!), came home to a lovely bowl of local peaches and some fresh, hot nutella crepes, spent time in the garden with my fall planting, and even went running a couple of miles during the sunset. Now I'm off to stretch and take a bubble bath, followed by some reading of my new novel (Foucault's Pendulum) and a decent bedtime.

I have been working on simplifying my life through detachment from identifying too much with outside things such as career, peers, pressures, and material possessions. It is painful work, brought on by suffering because in the past I have let myself become attached to things that are not who I really am. Today I feel the difference.

How about you? What have you given up lately that has made things simpler or better in your life?

The Curious Incident of the Arch in the Nighttime

I used to backpack up through Landscape Arch before boulders feel from it in 1991. Since then I've been resigned to take the Devils Garden trail past Wall Arch, but now that area is in peril and the trail is closed. Or should I say that, as of two weeks ago, Wall Arch no longer exists?

So my question is this: If an arch crashes 71 feet to the desert floor, but no one is around, does it make a sound?

T.S. Eliot has this answer:

This is the way the world ends
This is the way the world ends
This is the way the world ends
Not with a bang but a whimper.

-The Hollow Men (image from Arches National Park)

So what is left for us is the evidence of an unobserved, but supposedly violent transformation. And maybe I should try to make my next post about something besides the end of the world.

Evanescence

Waves harmonized, with slivered particles
Refraction blasted on boulders
Forms a dissolving phantom
Covenants no immediate Armageddon
Which signals no Rapture, but I'll take it

Bark Beetle

“The clearest way to the Universe is through a forest wilderness” -John Muir

Have you seen how the bark beetle thrives in some forests? I was sad to go up Cedar Canyon and discover the forest is half dead.

Ransacked, rummaged bark,

Beetle swallows, grinds, renders

Breathless remembrance

Shakespearean Festival: 2008 review

It's time again for my annual Shakespearean Festival review. Kevin and I saw two plays in the outdoor Adam's Theatre--we really enjoy the outdoor ambiance and try to see our plays there if we can. Although the outdoors have their drawbacks--we were slightly distracted when a big unassuming bug crawled along the balcony railing and the man next to me leaned forward and flicked it down onto the people sitting in the orchestra seats. Kevin and I had to try very hard to not laugh.

(Images courtesy of bard.org.)

I know that Othello traditionally ranks as one of the top four Shakespearean tragedies (with King Lear, Macbeth, and Hamlet), but there was a lot in here that reminded me of Julius Cesar: wars, senators, spousal (dis)loyalty, deceit to gain political position, trust, distrust, shame, and suicide. Igao has more lines than anyone, so this play could bear his name as the title, and he serves as an author and director of the plot from within the play. I've always wondered why he is so malicious. It's not obvious he's doing it for promotion only, but (sorry, but I think the analysis fits) like Heath Ledger's Joker, he just wants to control people, to make people destroy their own excellent lives.

I also found myself admiring Desdemona more this time. Lindsey Wochley did a fabulous job portraying the smart, gracious, sincere (and innocent!) woman and bringing her to life so we are truly as amazed as she is at Othello's turn in character. Jonathan Earl Peck performed a masculine and tragic Othello.

Cyrano de Bergerac was a different change from the Renaissance-era outdoor plays. What an interesting character. He makes many enemies with his sensitive poetic soul and his inability to walk away from an insult. Yet, he bears tragic sorrows and personal inhibitions for years and years. Despite that, he's determined to never miss a letter to or an appointment with Roxanne, and he dies fighting to the end, refusing help and sympathy. Brian Vahgn, a regular at the festival, played very convincingly and amazingly. He was the show. I really felt Cyrano's loss in this play.

Dangerously Beautiful

While in Yellowstone over the weekend, my family watched a dramatization of the "super volcano" of Yellowstone erupting and taking out the entire continental U.S. I'd just like to thank my brother for bringing that movie and its thoughts of impending doom on our trip.

Despite being one of the world's largest and most active volcanoes, Yellowstone is beautiful this time of year--covered in wildflowers. I wasn't too hot walking around unshaded geyser basins all day either, although I've never known the Old Faithful and related geysers to be a cool (temperature-wise) place to hang out.

It is a fragile and changing place. I was surprised that the Steamboat Geyser I remember from my childhood trips has stopped erupting at all.

Hayden Valley

Artist Paintpots

Porcelain Basin (double meaning, I know)

Wildflower Meadow

Lower Falls/Inspiration Point

Jackson Lake with Grand Tetons

This is the birth day of life and love and wings

i thank You God for most this amazing
day: for the leaping greenly spirits of trees
and a blue true dream of sky; and for everything
which is natural which is infinite which is yes

(i who have died am alive again today,
and this is the sun’s birthday; this is the birth
day of life and love and wings: and of the gay
great happening illimitably earth)

how should tasting touching hearing seeing
breathing any-lifted from the no
of all nothing-human merely being
doubt unimaginably You?

(now the ears of my ears awake and
now the eyes of my eyes are opened)

- e. e. cummings

MVSEVM

Over the weekend, Kevin and I went to the "Monet to Picasso" exibit at the The Utah Museum of Fine Arts. What cool set of unique pieces: Lots of Monets, Rodins, a couple of Van Goghs, a Dali, and oh yes, Picassos. If you go, wait for the free audio set--it's worth it.

This exhibit also made me realize how much I don't know about art history. I'll always be sad that I didn't take a university-level art history class when I had the chance. Instead, I only find art very mysterious.

One thing I learned is that Rodin's "The Thinker" is symbollic of Dante plotting The Divine Comedy. That creates a whole new meaning for that piece for me. How the physical ability in the sculpture represents a mind capable of taking on such a huge task.

And this is my favorite piece in the show:

This is a piece Monet did of his future wife. He captured her in this pose like a camera's snapshot. The whole idea that this is like a snapshot, even though a photgraphic lens was not developed enough at the time to take snapshots, just intrigues me. It makes me contemplate my own anachronistic observation I impose on the painting. The closed doors and the sideways glance also imply future separation (she later died in childbirth). So it's sad and beautiful.

August at Albion Basin

Today Kevin and I took our annual wildflower walk through Albion Basin. The wildflowers this weekend are strong and amazing, and there are hints that more are to come through August.

The one thing I wish I could document for myself is the fresh, clean smell. As I'm up there, I know I'm getting sweaty and dirty from the trail, but I can't help feeling like I want to bring my entire wardrobe up here and just let the fresh breeze clean my clothes straight through with the mountain air.

I wish I had that smell, that coolness, the overall feeling of mountain air to go back to whenever I wanted.