Friday, November 11, 2022
Monday, May 16, 2022
A true mountain tale
I wrote this story about living here:
A true mountain tale
I am busy preparing to move, and I'm very sorry about that; I love Sixteen Springs and will miss it a lot.
More on that later. I'm sure I'll still write about this place. And I've promised, sincerely, to make it all good.
A true mountain tale
I am busy preparing to move, and I'm very sorry about that; I love Sixteen Springs and will miss it a lot.
More on that later. I'm sure I'll still write about this place. And I've promised, sincerely, to make it all good.
Thursday, March 17, 2022
June
The cold hard wind has been blowing for days, at varying speeds and even varying directions. But always dry, dry as a bone, it comes through the mountains and sucks up whatever moisture might have been left from a tiny snow.
I'm grateful for the snow, because it actually put a little green in the grasses, a green that will have to last through the dry season.
In the north they sometimes say, "April is the cruelest month," because, though spring comes and everything is green, nothing is really edible until later in the spring. So, you can see all this life around you, but you can't eat any of it, because none of it's ready. And it's possible to starve even when everything is blossoming.
But I like to say, "June is the cruelest month," because, having waited so long for so little moisture, we in New Mexico have the same problem. There actually is a little rain in the spring, but not much; there is even sometimes a little rain in June, but again not much. Last year we had an unusual situation when the July rains actually came a little early. But generally, June is the cruelest month.
Except that this year, we're leaving in June. We will let someone have these beautiful mountains, just as the rains arrive.
I'm grateful for the snow, because it actually put a little green in the grasses, a green that will have to last through the dry season.
In the north they sometimes say, "April is the cruelest month," because, though spring comes and everything is green, nothing is really edible until later in the spring. So, you can see all this life around you, but you can't eat any of it, because none of it's ready. And it's possible to starve even when everything is blossoming.
But I like to say, "June is the cruelest month," because, having waited so long for so little moisture, we in New Mexico have the same problem. There actually is a little rain in the spring, but not much; there is even sometimes a little rain in June, but again not much. Last year we had an unusual situation when the July rains actually came a little early. But generally, June is the cruelest month.
Except that this year, we're leaving in June. We will let someone have these beautiful mountains, just as the rains arrive.
Saturday, February 26, 2022
Fire training
I walked into the fire house for a training session. not intending to stay. After all, I am leaving the valley, and therefore the fire department, probably in summer (what will happen to this blog?). But an odd thing happened. There happened to be a very comfortable chair parked right in front of the television, and I was ushered right into it. It felt good; I'd been working all day and I fit right into the chair with my sore back. The training had already started and the movie was going.
I was actually able to hear better than I often am able to, and that's partly because the chair was right there at the monitor. The guy giving the training had reasonnably clear speech. I learned a lot about fire crews. They start with communication. We often watched clips from forty, fifty years ago.
But then it occurred to me. Fire training is based on real life experience where lives are at stake. Unlike academics, there is abslolutely no reward for using big words or being obtuse. All of their systems are based on hard experience and on what saves lives and works best fire after fire.
Of course, being a grammarian and proofreader, I couldn't help but analyze the kind of speech they used. But I also felt a little sheepish as, being inexperienced, I've never actually been in anything like these guys, ever. And they, living in this area, have seen a lot.
The movies that went through time served to show how firefighting has been a mutual aid society - we are all out there helping each other, and, in the mountains, our time will surely come - and I came to appreciate all the more my neighborhood and the neighbors I will soon be leaving. Probably most of them know what the movie was telling them - I am the most rookie-est of rookies, but they are not - and most of them use clear direct communication all the time anyway. That's what I love about them. But when it comes time to learn more about firefighting and pay attention to the fire season at hand, they are there - all of them - and they are watching the same movie.
Yes I am leaving the valley, but not because I don't love it. I do love it, and love my neighbors. I'll spare you the details for now but will eventually tell all, before it happens. It's a hard place to live - roads that are so bumpy our fitbits give us credit for driving them - weather that makes the ridge a little icy - switchback roads with cliffs - but I've loved it out here. The fire training is a community event, and it was a joy to see a group of neighbors work together for a common goal - the protection of our valley.
I was actually able to hear better than I often am able to, and that's partly because the chair was right there at the monitor. The guy giving the training had reasonnably clear speech. I learned a lot about fire crews. They start with communication. We often watched clips from forty, fifty years ago.
But then it occurred to me. Fire training is based on real life experience where lives are at stake. Unlike academics, there is abslolutely no reward for using big words or being obtuse. All of their systems are based on hard experience and on what saves lives and works best fire after fire.
Of course, being a grammarian and proofreader, I couldn't help but analyze the kind of speech they used. But I also felt a little sheepish as, being inexperienced, I've never actually been in anything like these guys, ever. And they, living in this area, have seen a lot.
The movies that went through time served to show how firefighting has been a mutual aid society - we are all out there helping each other, and, in the mountains, our time will surely come - and I came to appreciate all the more my neighborhood and the neighbors I will soon be leaving. Probably most of them know what the movie was telling them - I am the most rookie-est of rookies, but they are not - and most of them use clear direct communication all the time anyway. That's what I love about them. But when it comes time to learn more about firefighting and pay attention to the fire season at hand, they are there - all of them - and they are watching the same movie.
Yes I am leaving the valley, but not because I don't love it. I do love it, and love my neighbors. I'll spare you the details for now but will eventually tell all, before it happens. It's a hard place to live - roads that are so bumpy our fitbits give us credit for driving them - weather that makes the ridge a little icy - switchback roads with cliffs - but I've loved it out here. The fire training is a community event, and it was a joy to see a group of neighbors work together for a common goal - the protection of our valley.
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