Month: June 2021

The residents of this magnificent, special, and beautiful ranch received an email this morning of someone who left their trash outside the dumpster because it was full. Strewn and scattered by animals, I wonder what else this person expected to happen. If the offender might be a reader of this site, shame on you, and please take better care of our pristine home.

I ventured down on Saturday for a large mail run with two large green bags of trash to discard. Alas, the dumpster was full, so I did two things:

1. Texted someone on the board to let them know it was full.

2. I brought my trash bags back home and put them back in my storage bin.

Not only is our ranch looking trashed, we now have an animal predisposed to hunt for food scraps, having gained such access. We also have members of this community who now have to literally walk along behind the offender and clean up their filth. We should treat our neighbors and friends with more dignity.

Please respect your Self, your neighbors, and this gorgeous place we are privileged to call home. If the dumpster is full, take your trash home or take it to Fort Garland. It is common sense and it seems silly to have to write that out as such.

This weekend denoted a mere ten months living on the ranch. In some ways, it feels like three years. The pace, the calm, the quiet, how quickly I felt at home in these surroundings. I have met so many kind, giving, generous and open people here; the community truly is a gift.

Had a good friend over for dinner Friday, a classic plan, steak and whiskey. I had another visitor stop by and share for a while, we ate, we drank (oh we did), and caught up on stories. He is wiser than I in many ways, and proffered a succinct summation.

I had an old friend I have known for half my life. Crashed at his place when traveling the country, he the same on his trips. We visit at times, we email regularly, we hike when allowed, it is what it is. He’s now retired and planning a full month to explore our lovely state; plans were coordinated. He just proclaimed there was no time to see me, not a drop in, not even a hello. Time for two days to camp just south of La Veta, time to spend a day at the Dunes, time for a day in Crestone, yet he will venture past the 160 gate this Friday with no time for me.

As my new, true and whiskey-softened friend quickly summated, “Then he’s not your friend; he’s just someone you know.”

Life is life. It is what it is. I have folks offering to (and often do) feed me, share equipment with me, give me firewood, help me lift heavy things, make me homemade preserves and proffering fresh ranch meat. Life is good here. People are amazing here. I will do my best to be an equally good neighbor and friend to them all.

I started cold brewing my coffee long before moving off grid. An insignificant fact but it is a fundamental aspect of this incident. Cold brewing means I daily end up with a mason jar of rinse water and organic coffee grounds. I scatter this mixture about the lawn which seems to enjoy the treatment.

This morning, however, mid-toss, a hummingbird entered the path the fluid was about to venture upon. She weaved to and fro, amazing me how she managed to avoid all the large droplets, but alas, she did get splattered. I wish her well. She shook herself off as she headed for the feeder, with a little extra buzz and a new scent to take back to the nest.

Photo of the day. We have all felt it. Sitting still, minding our own business and suddenly, you get the feeling you’re being watched. Sometimes, you are.

I have been told to check my eye sight. I have been told I was crazy, but this morning makes two mornings in a row that I have watched a pronghorn antelope wandering about the fields between Spangle and Grey Place.

I have confirmed the black horns, the white butt and belly, the distinct head bob when he walks slowly. It is a pronghorn. I am not crazy (at least in this particular sense), but I wonder what the old boy is doing out here, all alone and wandering about.

My long lens doesn’t do well in early morning light, but the best proof I can muster is below.

Awoke to a cold, dark cloud covered mountain top this morning. Humidity is steadily holding ninety nine percent since rising. In times of drought and uncertainty, we have seemingly had our share of moisture to fight back such. This place is fully alive, green, vibrant, and full of animal life.

Saturday night I again broke bread with a relatively new (to the park) couple, having been graciously invited into their home. A lovely evening it was, full of food, laughter and time spent getting to know each other. There are so many kind, open, and generous people in this ranch. It is a characteristic I’ve not found so widespread in any community before. It can draw one in.

My neighbor’s lot has been emptied of the wood reserves he created for me. A full third of my winter fuel now stacked and stored and drying for later consumption. This week it’s off on another new location to see another new neighbor’s property and to bring back another load of offered firewood. I’ll cut it up and load it, and then split and stack it as is routine. A quiet, thoughtful, unimpeded routine I am beginning to greater appreciate. Keeping my body fit, and making a winter’s worth of free heat.

It would seem that the ballots are being cast; next Saturday we shall have two board members elected for a four year term. One person is running for re-election, and two people are running for the first time. Three men vying for two jobs, so we shall see what the community has chosen to do quite soon. I am now officially part of the process, being a ballot counter, and let us hope we fair better than our own government did last Fall.

The ranch is alive in every way. A myriad of new summer mountain flowers are erupting everywhere. The fields in front of Grey Place are yellow, a patch near Ortega Pass is as white as if the snow were still there, and I am actually about to mow my lawn for the second time in ten days. Life is sprouting, bursting, and enjoying the warm weather.

Firewood is being gathered, nearly a third of my winter needs now on the lot, mostly cut, split and already stacked. Much is left to do, but the days are long, the sun is thorough, and life is good out on the ranch.