Down time, green time, dream time…

[You folks out west may find many of these images overly disturbingly verdant, sorry if so.]

About all that could be said for the subsequent/previous week was that it rained nightly, the cleanest house ever went to mud immediately as the Inkies brought the outside in and, due to our depleted states, we made excruciatingly slow progress both moving in and acclimatizing.

On the upside two extraordinary books, both tracing journeys but each uniquely distinct, happily illuminated the intervals between slow progress and utter collapse during our waking

hours. Carlo and Renzo Piano’s oceanic peregrinations on an Italian research vessel [“Atlantis”] was one while Nick Neely’s “Alta California”, wherein the author walked from San Diego north to the Bay Area in the footsteps of the 1769 Portola expedition camping in the weeds and dry riverbeds in 2016, was the other.  Fortuitous, both…and both highly recommended.

Grasses grew or had grown lavishly and

though initially we failed to venture far from the house [in the beginning a trip from there to

the toolbox and back was more than enough to put me down for an hour’s nap]

by Saturday L. at least was sufficiently recovered to attempt the Gardner Farmer’s Market

and Post Office under the anxious gaze of the Inkies, bringing back

copious farm-to-table greens, duck eggs…and mail. For dinner that night we treated ourselves

to ground grass-fed beef imported from Alturas on the Farmer’s fresh-made bread.

A week on I was making it up to the studio regularly if tentatively, drawing a tiny little bit as

the rains continued, the meadow grew lusher and greener than ever seen and though the

ongoing BLM-JBLM flu or cold or covid made getting out in it exhausting subsequent attempts met increasingly with success; by the Wednesday ten days after arrival we’d both managed

to attain the top of Fossil Hill, L. doing better than I though her affliction had been considerably more serious early on….

Anyway…onwards into the greenness, for as long as it lasts.

 

7 thoughts on “Down time, green time, dream time…

  1. Eva Bovenzi

    Hi Michael—welcome to you and Linda! It IS amazingly green and lovely. We’ve been hibernating since arrival, though I can’t put my finger on exactly why. Just seems to be a very interior time. Nonetheless, it would be great to see you two sometime soon. Call us, or vice-versa. XO

    Reply
  2. kirk moore

    YIKES! The BLM flu/COVID sounds horrible….we’re very relieved to hear you are recovering.
    We saw him just over 10 days ago and have not suffered any ill effects.
    Libre certainly looks verdant…hopefully everything will stay green until winter; otherwise those tall grasses will become like our entire state out here; flammable.
    Send more photos of rain-melted corrugated rooftops…. and anything else watery.

    Reply
    1. mikesmoore Post author

      You’re right about those grasses; we love ’em but as they get drier we’ll be cutting them back…and hoping the fires don’t come anyway. Lots of fuel all around. As for watery, this is the first year I can remember hearing the creek from over here; last year by this time it wasn’t even making it to the road.

      Reply
  3. Fred Kolo

    Yup, GREEN! Who would have thought?
    A quick family story: growing up in Twin Falls and commuting pretty much every weekend to Ketchum, one was aware of seasonal changes, even the subtle ones. My father, behind the wheel, when Spring rolled around was known to say, as we pulled out of Shoshone “I have never seen the sage brush so green” so often that it became a family joke and everyone else in the car would struggle to contain their laughter.

    Reply
    1. mikesmoore Post author

      EVERY spring [after a high desert winter] is always the greenest…or so it seems. Not so this year in Nevada, however…

      Reply
  4. Michael Sykes

    How great to be getting your illustrated missives again, especially those with lots of greenery and tumbling dark clouds full of water! We have had five straight weeks of unrelenting blistering heat, as you know, not a drop of rain has made it to the top of my uncovered unsunblocked head–it all evaporates in the sky, like a stripper teasingly taking off her clothes. Sometimes it’s so fearfully hot you think if you look at the land it will spontaneously burst into flames so you look away as if you weren’t supposed to be staring. I have for the umpteenth time posted that the bookstore is for sale. I do it every year but never pursue the idea very far because frankly I’m having too damn much fun. This time it’s different, though. I don’t have the latitude I used to, or I should say the choice, because the peripheral neuropathy in my lower legs and feet is clearly progressive and I have to take it easy, which actually is music to my ears. I’m very good at taking it easy. So my attempts to sell have a new tone. it’s coming and I’m not kidding the way I used to. I mention this because the bookstore is far better now than I ever imagined it could be and you might know somebody or bodies that are looking for just what I have, which is pretty amazing (you’ve only seen the tip of the iceberg). If so, send them my way. I’m already generating a lot of interest). But I’m in no hurry. Has to be the right person or persons. I’m glad to hear Linda’s feeling better. Say hi for me. and for yourself.

    Reply

Leave a Reply

Your email address will not be published. Required fields are marked *