CLAST AND SEDIMENT

We thought we'd make a loop and walk back on the other side of the creek, but the trail that looked so well trodden got a little sketchy, and then became impassible.


We crossed back over by hopping on rocks.



And then scrambled up the hillside. Catie did a dance of triumph at the top.

I NO LONGER GATHER WHAT FALLS

I snuck away from Salt Lake for a good cup of coffee. And a visit with Ross!


It was one of those perfect, mid-winter Seattle weekends. The kind you can't predict. Absolutely perfect.


TS and I had a Scrabble/kite flying picnic.


We couldn't quite get the kite high enough for real freedom. It was as if there were tiers of wind, with a gap between them, into which our kite kept falling.






TS tried running up the hill. I tried running down the other side.


Ross was sorry to have missed the picnic, so I was forced to suffer through another one the next day.


I have never tasted satsumas quite as delicious as these.




I took the new light rail back to the airport as the sun set. It was cold and dark back in Salt Lake, spitting a little snow, and when the sun came up the next morning, the only green I could see from my window was the sign at the 7-Eleven across the street.

PAPER HEARTS VS. THE FORCES OF EVIL

A few weeks ago Esther hosted an evening of paper crafting, I Ching, Tarot, and musical instruments. Her box of scraps included a book in braille, which made excellent valentine material. The I-Ching was not kind to me, though, predicting splits and divisions, but it did say the good forces would eventually triumph.




I had to finish my valentine cutting and pasting and stitching later, and of course, I sent them all too late for timely arrival.



Apparently the braille says something about Richard Nixon's childhood. Very romantic.





Jackson really enjoyed making valentines.



To all his friends he sends a loving scratch.




But Lucy just declared that she is a walking valentine and flashed her pretty whiskers for the camera.

THE COWBOYS AND THE GAMBLERS

Ross came out to work at the National Cowboy Poetry Gathering in good ol' Elko-town. I drove over after classes to join him. It seems that 90% of my westward drives across the Salt Flats occur at sunset, with the setting sun blinding me for many miles. This time, the moon came up and reflected off the snow.


I didn't work at the Gathering this year, so I actually heard quite a few poets, and a bit of music. One of my favorite things about the cowboys are their extravagant moustaches.


I was pleased to see my old friend the White King, who lives inside this casino, where you cannot take a picture of him. But I like his effigy on the outside of the casino, too.

Ross's duties for this Gathering were largely to hang out in this Sheep Camp and interview interesting people, like Kent Reeves, the surfer-cowboy from CA, and Gwen Trice, an African-American woman from Oregon, who only recently discovered that her dad was one of the few loggers in Maxville, OR, a now vanished logging town, where blacks and whites worked together in the 1920s. Gwen has made a film about the nearly forgotten town.





We got to stay in the ever-so-luxurious Midtown Motel, alongside the gold mine drillers and their big trucks. It was clean, though, and the owner was really friendly.


I think the Biltoki is my new favorite Elko Basque restaurant. We dined with Steve and Laura, who just got married last spring and definitely have the glow of newlyweds.




I didn't get many photos of the cowboys or the fabulous dancing, but Jessica, the official photographer of the Gathering, does great work. You can see a few of her shots on her blog.

Then it was back to work. It's been warmer lately, and it even rained on me when I took a walk the other day.