Category: Uncategorized

I am grateful to be home in the US, despite the tragic news portrayed on media this morning. I intended to post a blog prepared before my vacation but reflecting on the trip with gratitude seems a way to feed my soul today.

I am grateful for our opportunity to walk/hike the Cotswold Way in England. Importantly, we were healthy and happy during our 10 days together with few glitches.

I am grateful for being physically and mentally able to walk the entire 102+ miles. We added additional miles because we were lost once or twice but that was all part of our experience.

I am profoundly grateful for my seven travelling companions. We encouraged and supported one another unconditionally. We are better friends now than when we started.

I relished the humor and laughter we shared during the sojourn.

The landscapes of our journey enthralled me. The undulating green hills, pastures and crop fields, and thick woods were a delightful contrast to the majestic purple mountains that I experience each day in Colorado.

I am grateful for the four-legged animals we spotted. Cute and well-behaved dogs were on the trail, but almost no kitties. I LOVED the sheep. The lambs were about 4-8 weeks old and often frisky. Walking through pastures and seeing them did not disappoint. We also encountered pheasants, squirrels, rabbits, and one deer.

The magnitude of the wooded areas we treaded were a pleasant surprise. Experiencing beech and horse chestnut trees as a canopy that were hundreds of years old was an unexpected delight. Every day the birds sang almost nonstop, especially in the mornings.

I am grateful for all the voluntary wardens who keep the trails cleared and accessible. They also maintained the stone walls that were in various states of repair. Trail benches were dedicated to local citizens and wardens who had loved and enjoyed the Cotswolds for decades.

I loved meeting the people who provided hosting in the B & B’s where we stayed as well as locals who offered insight and directions. We felt welcomed and encouraged.

I was always grateful for a cold beer/ale at the end of our day and the conviviality of recollecting the best parts of the daily walk.

I am pleased that I, as well as all my travelling companions, tested negative for COVID so we could return home.

I am grateful that I had the financial means, physical ability, and social connections to make this trip. I feel privileged to have experienced this pilgrimage.

I am glad to be home. I look forward to reliving the memories and to planning future journeys to explore this diverse world.

I am out of town and originally planned not to post a blog. I intended to pause for a week. However, I started to reflect on what it means to pause, take a deep breath, regroup, and then carry on again.

A Coca-Cola commercial in 1929 first used the phrase, “The pause that refreshes.” For almost 100 years, that phrase has come to mean more than simply having a cold drink. Pauses are good.

A conversation on taking a pause surfaced in the media last summer when Simone Biles announced that she would not compete in all her Olympic gymnastics events. Some people were upset with the decision but for the sake of her mental health, it was necessary to take a break and make herself whole again.

Putting my blog on pause feels good and gives me a sense of freedom. Not only resting from a timeline but also taking a larger hiatus from my daily routine at home is refreshing. I am taking opportunities on this vacation to appreciate my time away and to contemplate what I want to write in the future. Stay tuned!

I am not a huge sweets lover, but I never met a donut I would turn down. My other sweet downfall, although I am more persnickety, is PIE. I like fruit pies and have a high bar of expectation for these delights.

Growing up in the Midwest may have something to do with my fruit pie affinity. What is more American than pie? I was spoiled, however, with the pies that my mom and aunt made because they were hard to duplicate.

My favorite pie is apple pie made by my mom. Since she passed away three years ago and made far fewer pies in her later years due to declining health, I have not had my favorite apple pie for a while. She taught me how to make pie, but I was never that good with the crust. I can, however, make the apples taste much like moms.

For five years I participated in RAGBRAI (Register’s Annual Great Bike Ride Across Iowa). I subsisted on pie on that ride. It was the best of days when I had pie for breakfast, lunch, and dinner. Because most apple pie did not taste like my mother’s, I opted to try variations of rhubarb pie as I rode across the state. I had wonderful pie, and other times, not so great.

We have a diner in Estes Park called, “You Need Pie.” I walk by it most days when I go to the lake. I usually do not carry any money with me, or I would be tempted continually to stop in for a piece “to go.” They serve regular diner food but also have a selection of pie items: quiches, cheesecake, and usually more than a dozen fruit pies—purist pies like cherry or apple, and combination pies like strawberry rhubarb, blueberry apple, and the like.

Twice a month I indulge in a piece of pie. I savor it as an evening treat. The sweetness reminds me of my Iowa roots. I rationalize pie as a reward for having had a good day of hiking or volunteering in the park. On chilly days, pie is comfort food. On warm days, a little ice cream on top is refreshing.

Although I do not NEED pie, I want it as a special indulgence to nourish my sweet tooth and my soul.

I am obsessed with cats–little ones as well as big ones. It isn’t that I don’t like dogs and other animals, but I continue to develop an affinity for cats including the ones that own me and the ones that own the universe.

Three types of cats dominate my life: bobcats, mountain lions, and housecats. The first two are a result of where I live in the mountains of Colorado. I interact with cats every day.

I see bobcats frequently where I live. In the winter, their tracks are evident daily across my driveway in newly fallen snow. These medium sized cats are territorial and solitary. They have black bars on their forelegs and black-tipped, stubby bobbed tails-thus, their name. This predator inhabits wooded areas and meadows. Bobcats hunt rabbits and hares, and consume insects, chickens, geese and other birds, small rodents, and deer. Last week I opened my front door and saw a bobcat staring at me with a ground squirrel hanging out its mouth. It quickly ran off with its breakfast.

I have never seen a mountain lion in my years of coming to, and now living in, Colorado. They are tan to gray in color and can weigh full-grown between 90-150 pounds. They share the space wherever deer live. These big cats thrive in steep, rocky canyons and mountainous areas. People frequently ask me when I volunteer in the park if they should be afraid to hike because of mountain lions. These cats almost never attack adults as we do not resemble their natural prey. Someday I hope I see one from a great distance-100 yards or more. I sometimes come upon their tracks when I hike in the Deer Mountain and Lumpy Ridge areas of the park.

I write regularly about my adorable house cats. They would be happier if they could go outdoors but that is not safe where I live. They make me smile daily and bring me immense joy.

Talking about cats reminds me of a friend who passed away last week after well over 80 years of being a “cat woman.” Anne was in my weekly writing group and one of my biggest blog fans. Shortly after I met her, she announced to me that she was really a cat living in a woman’s body. She loved cats. A little sign along her driveway said, “Cattery West.” Friends found her resting peacefully in her bed having had an apparent heart attack. Her beloved old kitty, Max, was watching over her. I am sure he is grieving for the loss of this kindred spirit.

Little and big cats, and the people that love them, make the world a better place. They bring humans joy as we interact with them. Meanwhile, cats do their part to keep the social and ecological world in balance.

Wednesday morning is foggy and chilly as we pull from the utility area in the park at 6:30am. My volunteer partner and I are embarking on the monthly elk count as citizen scientists for Rocky Mountain National Park. We collect data for the park’s elk and vegetation management plan.

Elk once roamed freely in the area. In the early 1900’s hunters extirpated the elk for the restaurants in Denver accommodating the growing residents and visitors on the front range. F.O. Stanley recognized a problem without wildlife for visitors to see in what was soon to become Rocky Mountain National Park. He imported a dozen elk from Yellowstone to Rocky to add to the tourism appeal of the area.

By the 1990’s, Stanley’s experiment was so successful that the elk population was larger, less migratory, and more concentrated than it had ever been. Plus, elk had few natural predators. By the early 2000’s, a proposed Elk and Vegetation plan aimed to cut the number of elk wintering in the park, regenerate aspen stands, and increase willow heights destroyed by too many grazing elk. Part of the plan is the regular monitoring of elk activity in the park and surrounding areas.

What could be more fun than going out early in the morning with the express purpose of looking for elk? Our citizen science role on those monthly counts is to find elk. Armed with a radio, binoculars, and spotting scope as well as a clipboard with the designated route and our data collection materials, we head out. If we see elk on the route, we stop and record the number; whether they are bulls, cows, yearlings, or calves; the numbers on any of the collars placed on cows for various research projects; and the location of the sightings.

The counts allow researchers to monitor the situation and make management changes as needed. Flexibility and adaptation are critical to establish desired future conditions for vegetation in the park and to oversee the elk population.

By design, the elk population is declining in the winter because they are migrating to lower elevations. The aspen and willow growth are coming back. With this growth, beavers are beginning to return to the park and create additional riparian areas. The progress is slow but finding the ecological balance that was badly disrupted is occurring.

I love the mornings I spend looking for elk and recording their characteristics and numbers. Anything about wildlife is dear to my heart, but I especially love making this contribution to science and to the recovery of an environment that can support a diversity of wildlife including elk, beavers, coyotes, and other native species.

I was listening to an interview on the radio and the guest talked about what brought him happiness and what brought him joy. I had never thought about the difference between the two.

I went online later to buy my duck tickets for the Estes Park Duck Race (an annual fund-raiser for non-profits in the community) and the landing page stated:

Joy . . . that feeling of wonderful delight you receive when you do something for others . . .and it ends up making you feel joyful as well! The essence of the Rotary Duck Race Festival is to support PEOPLE HELPING OTHER PEOPLE . . . Adopt a Duck…the more Duck Adoptions you purchase . . .the more JOY you spread around!

What IS the difference between happiness and joy? Both are emotions when one feels contentment or satisfaction. The difference may be based on the cause and the nature of the feeling. The distinction may or may not be important but interesting to consider.

Happiness can range from bliss to pleasure by luck or good fortune. Joy is stronger and less common, and usually results in feeling connected to a higher power or with people such as suggested by the intrinsic benefits of contributing to the Duck Race.

The causes of happiness usually are earthly experiences or objects–an outward expression of emotion in the moment. It can be experienced from any good activity, food, or company. I am happy, for example, biting into a juicy apple. Hearing a beautiful piece of music can make me happy.

Joy comes from caring for others, gratitude, and thankfulness. I feel joy when I volunteer at Rocky Mountain National Park. I feel joy when I am part of a group making music. Joy often is based on a spiritual or heartfelt connection. I am happy to see the first bluebird of spring; watching the birds swarming my feeders on a cold snowy day brings me joy.

Adela Rogers St. John suggested, “Joy seems to me a step beyond happiness—happiness is a sort of atmosphere you can live in sometimes when you’re lucky. Joy is a light that fills you with hope and faith and love.”

In these times, happiness and joy are elusive with the horrific world situation. Further, differentiating and defining happiness and joy may not be necessary. The purpose of life, however, is in living and finding happiness and joy regardless of what the day brings. I am grateful for the fleeting moments that make me smile, and even more grateful for the joyful opportunities to associate with other like-minded people as well as to connect with something greater than myself.

One of the binary assumptions that perplexes me is the idea of having only an introvert OR extrovert personality. I think about myself and the people I know/meet and where we fall on what I believe is a spectrum or continuum.

I would classify myself as an extroverted introvert. I was more extroverted when younger, but I have been mostly introverted much of my life. This personality may explain why I like to sit alone and write. I would never be described as the life of any party. On the other hand, I like parties (for a while) and I enjoy being social.

Continuum:

Introvert——————-KH———————-NR–Extrovert

Research says that genes influence one’s personality. I am a product of a mom who was more extroverted than introverted and a father who was quite introverted and shy. I like that I have both of their traits. In the big picture, however, I am more like my dad. Nevertheless, personalities also are shaped by life experiences.

Not all introverts or extroverts are the same because most of us are a mixture of both. Introverts, however, are generally reserved. I like to be with people, and I need time away to recharge. I like small groups of people. I can assume leadership when necessary and I am also glad for others to lead if they are headed in (what I consider) the right direction. I do not turn down invitations to social gatherings, as I know I will enjoy one-on-one conversations. I prefer more meaningful discourses than small talk. I often need time to think and reflect before I speak.

The writing life involves spending time alone. I do not work well in crowded environments, and I prefer writing at home, at my desk, rather than being in a coffee shop or even at an office. I like being “in my head.” I favor calm, minimally stimulating settings.

I wish I was more extroverted, but over the years I have learned to surround myself with extroverts and the pressure is taken off to be in the spotlight. I appreciate my friends regardless of where they are on this continuum. One reason I have been thinking about extroversion and introversion is because of the recent passing of a dear friend who was an extroverted extrovert.

I admired Nina (NR) in many ways because of her extroversion. She was an outgoing passionate person who naturally drew people to her. She liked being the center of attention and that served her well in getting things done and inspiring others. Being who she was did not mean that she did not think deeply and have meaningful relationships. She exuded her enthusiasm as a true extrovert. It feels like just a little less energy in the universe today. My introverted self will miss this wonderful, extroverted friend.

When I was growing up, I used to play Cowboys and Indians with the neighbor boys. I always wanted to be an “Indian.”  American Indians intrigued me. I also did not have a saddle for my Appaloosa, so I had to ride bareback like they did on the TV shows and movies. I had a stereotyped picture of Indigenous people, but my interest in native cultures has grown over the years.

The movement to provide acknowledgements for Indigenous peoples heartens me. I was introduced to recognizing First Nation peoples when I attended a conference in Australia years ago. Since then, I have thought often about the people that inhabited the world’s lands before white people colonized these areas. I am increasingly aware of the significance of Native Americans in the West. I want to honor the Indigenous peoples everywhere I have lived.

Acknowledgements and reparations cannot make up for the treatment of these peoples. However, I want to remember the groups who came before me who aimed to preserve this natural world so I could enjoy it today.

I learned a little about Native Americans (Ioway, Sauk and Meskwaki, Očhéthi Šakówiŋ) in my 8^th grade Iowa history class. Iowa is named for the Ioway people. I worked as a professional 4-H Youth Leader in Tama County, Iowa, upon graduating from college. Tama County is home to the Sauk and Meskwaki Indians who were pushed from their lands and later were able to return by buying back the land. This work experience first exposed me to an understanding of “culture” that continues to inform my thinking.

I lived in Minnesota (Wahpekute, Očhéthi Šakówiŋ) and Wisconsin (Kiikaapoi-Kickapoo, Peoria, Sauk and Meskwaki, Myaamia, Hoocąk-Ho-Chunk, Očhéthi Šakówiŋ) and knew nothing about the Indigenous people who were native to those states. I did not know that land names came from the native people who once occupied the area. For example, Wisconsin (originally “Meskonsing”) is the English spelling of a French version of a Miami Indian name for the Wisconsin River that runs through the state. Minnesota is a Dakota name. Mni is the native word for water.

In northern Texas (Kiikaapoi-Kickapoo, Tawakoni, Wichita) I was not exposed to anything related to Indigenous people. My experiences were similar in North Carolina (Shakori, Occaneechi, Saponi, Lumbee).

I now call home the landscape where the Cheyenne, Arapaho, and Núu-agha-tʉvʉ-pʉ̱ (Ute) people lived and continue to live. They were nomadic in the area, but summers especially in what is now Rocky Mountain National Park, provided traditional hunting grounds.

Acknowledging the history is important but more important is remembering that American Indians are present today. Reflecting on Indigenous cultures challenges me to respect the land and preserve natural environments as these people did for centuries.

If you want to know Indigenous people who once lived in an area, you can go to https://native-land.ca/

The past two times I have stayed in friends’ homes, I have made it a point in planning to ask whether they had coffee in the house or whether I needed to bring my own. I recognized that this need/desire was a high priority of mine and an essential part of my morning. I had to ask!

You could say that I am a coffee addict, and I am not ashamed to admit it. I drink less coffee than I used to drink but having a couple cups remains a major joy of my early morning.

My parents drank coffee and I thought it smelled and tasted delectable. However, true or not, mom told me it would stunt my growth and I wanted to be a tall basketball player. I didn’t start drinking coffee until I was a senior in high school and realized I was probably not going to get taller.

Although I can still drink most any coffee available to me, I gravitate to bolder and stronger blends. I am also a coffee purist–coffee and a little cream. None of these fruit flavored lattes!

Coffee is now grown worldwide. Its heritage, however, apparently comes from ancient forests on the Ethiopian plateau. The legend says a goat herder first discovered the possibilities of the beans when he noticed that when his goats ate the berries from a particular tree, they became extremely energetic and did not want to sleep at night. A monk in the area experimented with making a drink with the berries and it kept the monks alert during evening prayers. The rest, as they say, is history.

My favorite coffee shop and where I purchase all my beans is Kind Coffee in Estes Park. A former UNC-CH student in our undergraduate degree program is the owner of the shop. She believes in fair trade coffee, organic production, and the philosophy of “being kind.” The website states the Dalia Lama philosophy: BE KIND WHENEVER POSSIBLE. IT IS ALWAYS POSSIBLE.

Kind Coffee is an active member of the organization, 1% For the Planet, which is an alliance of businesses committed to leveraging their resources to create a healthier planet. Members donate at least 1% of their net revenues and believe that taking environmental responsibility is good for business.

The owner of Kind Coffee, Amy Subber Hamrick, once apologized to me that she had not gone into a traditional parks and recreation career. I can think of nothing more leisure oriented than running a socially responsible business that enables people to enjoy coffee and come together in a social setting.

Whether drinking coffee by myself in front of my computer in the early morning, or meeting friends for coffee, I am grateful for that goatherder who discovered the marvels of coffee centuries ago.

It is March Madness. Aristotle suggested that “No great mind has ever existed without a touch of madness.” That idea applies to people who love basketball this time of the year.

The only real spectator sport I watch other than the Olympics is College Basketball (both men and women). Once upon a time years ago, I played basketball in a world different than today, especially for women.

I look forward to this crazy time of the year and adjust my schedule to binge watch as much as possible. I have favorite teams. I always enjoy a good game, however, no matter who is playing and like to cheer for the underdog. I am glad I do not have an investment in some games as it keeps my heart rate lower.

I wasn’t always a big college basketball fan until I moved to North Carolina and specifically, the Research Triangle of Chapel Hill, Raleigh, and Durham. It was almost impossible not to be a basketball fan if you wanted to be conversant with anyone from November through March.

One of the biggest faux paus I ever made was within the first few weeks of moving to North Carolina. Colleagues invited me to an exhibition game the UNC Tarheel Men were playing. We were watching the warm-up and I leaned over casually and said, “Now, who is our coach?” Three people’s eyes grew huge as they looked at me aghast. Finally, one person blinked and said, “It’s Dean Smith.” I had not followed college basketball for years. I NEVER made that mistake again. 

I played basketball all through high school. Rural Iowa was a haven for girls’ basketball throughout much of the 20th century. In my days, it was half court with three forwards and three guards on each side. Iowa girls’ basketball in that day also had a two-dribble limit and you either had to pass or shoot after the dribbles.

As a forward, with only two people scoring, it was not hard to rack up points. I seldom brag, but I hold the all-time scoring record for Coggon High School (61 points in a game). It will always stand since I played for a merged school district, North Linn, my senior year. Further, I was not tall (5’5″), but most teammates were average height. I would have loved to play competitively in college, but I had other career ambitions.

Everybody with any interest in March Madness knows about “brackets.” I used to fill them out religiously, but they usually got BUSTED the first day.

Basketball is a great March diversion as I await the unfolding of spring. I feel a bit of emptiness once the Madness is over. But then, there is always next year…