Big Pussy Cat?

Last night another 4-6 inches sifted down silent as feathers. We awoke to another morning of shoveling. I shoveled the top deck. Jim shoveled everything else–the big south deck, the smaller west deck and the sidewalk to the garage. Upon opening the garage door from the inside, he found this:



As chief pawprint identifier, I was called out of the house with my camera. Jim showed me that  the tracks led under the deck and then out into the rabbit brush. The prints did not belong to any house cat — they were almost double in size from our cats’ prints.



And around each print was an indented “cup” at least 3 inches across. From this evidence, I guessed that we’d been visited by a bobcat with fluffy, fuzzy feet. We have a healthy crop of rabbits this year. Perhaps now, it’s one less.

The Water’s Back On

This morning when we rose and shone, the outdoor thermometer read minus 5 degrees. I pulled an angel card that read LIGHT. The picture showed and angel holding two candles.


I suggested to Jim that we needed a fire. He set about scrounging wood and pretty soon the house was warm and cozy.



Yesterday’s drama ended with water being restored. Keith Boyd, a well expert, returned Jim’s call within 30 minutes and was at our doorstep by 9:30. The two men crawled under the house and discovered that a well fuse had blown, causing water to stop flowing. He replaced the two 17 year old fuses and then checked on the well itself.


Keith told us that well pumps, on the average, have a life of 18 years. Ours is about 17 years old. Our house was built in 1996 and we moved in, in 1997. So Jim decided it’s time to replace the well pump.  That will happen next week . . . depending on weather and other things. Meanwhile we’ve both had showers and cooked and cleaned and run the dishwasher. We greatly appreciate the gift of running water. . . and the efficiency and expertise of our well service man Keith.

No Water — Plan B

This morning, I hopped in the shower as usual. Then the water stopped. It didn’t take long for Jim and me to determine that the house water is not working. We are on a well, which includes a well shaft with electric pump  behind the house, and a pressure tank under the house.

The Angel Card I pulled this morning:


I am amused by the angel cards. They always hit the nail on the head, so to speak.  Jim and I will certainly be in Efficiency Mode today. The first things we did were to :

  • Determine that the probable cause was not frozen pipes – in almost 20 years of living here, the pipes have never frozen.
  • Turn the pump breakers on and off.
  • Turn off the hot water heater breaker so we don’t fry the heater.
  • Go under the house and bring up two water jugs that have been there since Y2K — anybody remember that? We will use it for the toilets (If it’s yellow, let it mellow. If it’s brown flush it down)


  • Think about getting a motel room so we can take showers
  • Fetch bottled water from City Market asap
  • Call our neighbor to plow snow from around the well head & driveway
  • Pray that on this cold snowy day, we can find a well service person to answer the phone and come to the house

(The prayer might be answered–the neighbor recommended someone in town who’s good with wells)



After the weirdest, warmest, driest January and half of February I can remember since living here for 18 years, Colorado is boasting record snow for February. (A couple of weeks ago, we had a spell of high 60-degree temps–no jackets or sweaters needed).  Our TV weather people are crowing that it may be the snowiest February on record. This is not to say it’s the most snow we’ve seen in our valley–not at all. We’ve received as much as 4 feet in one storm in March and April. But February can be very dry.

Here are a couple of pictures from this morning. First, the long shot as clouds rise from the ground to crown Mt. Princeton.



Close to home, our “mini-Matterhorn” rock with a snowy blanket. One or two rabbits live under our rock pile, come out to frolic, and then return to their holes.


Shadows from  pinon trees project across the white screen and then move on to dance elsewhere as a gentle breeze moves branches.


I received a beautiful Chihuly day book as a Christmas present.


I’ve kept a day book for at least 30 years, jotting down a few lines about each day. Last year, 2014, I couldn’t continue. The last quarter of that year was blank. It was a gray time. Creativity slipped away.

With the advent of 2015 and the new Chihuly day book, I’ve started something new. Each morning I pull an Angel Card. Today I pulled Willingness.



The word sets the tone for my day. It’s freaky how the word always fits. I’m a person who struggles with focus. Too many pulls. Too much on the to-do list. The angel card helps me see the purpose of my day. Today it’s Willingness. “Acceptance without reluctance” is how the dictionary defines it. Today there are things I’d like to put off, but I’ll do at least one of them without reluctance.

At the end of the day, I write a few lines about how the word played out. Sometimes it takes all day for me to understand. Sometimes I demand, “Show Me!” It never fails that I “get it” by the end of the day.




My Life Is A Doodle

Yikes! I’ve not blogged since last November and my WordPress site has changed. It took five minutes to find where to start blogging again. I almost gave up.  I want to dip back in to blogging, but make it easier, quicker. I’ve been posting on Facebook every day, but not blogging.  Yes, my life is a doodle,  It started something like this.


Before the doodle I was coloring mandalas from a book, like this.


The coloring infiltrated my bones. The coloring is meditative. I think coloring someone else’s designs is a great practice in mental detachment. The only thought is — what color next.

That’s where I’m going to leave it for today — what color next.

And later I’ll try to figure out the changes to WordPress. Gee I hate change!

Writing with Energy

Dearly beloved writers,

It’s my favorite time of year. Today I hosted writing at my house. Only four of our eight Monday Writers BLOC writers were able to attend, but we had fun. I was leading because I love having people over during this holiday. I made deviled eggs and also served coffee and cookies. Others brought chips, grapes, and a veggie platter. We were well fed.


I used A Playful Way to Serious Writing by Roberta Allen for two warm-up exercises.We associated words with abstract art and then picked the word with the most energy to write on. Roberta Allen explains (page 18) that a word has energy if

–You feel the tiniest pinprick of feeling
–Your eye is drawn to it instantly
–You find yourself thinking about it
–It conjures a strong association
–You feel moved or excited
–You feel irritated or disturbed

The six words that came to mind when I looked at the piece of abstract art were Tangle, Clots, Synapses, Tadpoles, Yarn and Ebola. (This illustration came from page 25 of Roberta Allen’s book)


I wrote for 10 minutes on Ebola because that was the most disturbing word from my list, and therefore had the most energy. The write led me to remember being in a museum in South Dakota where I saw a piece of Native American art (shown below).


I wrote:  “The thing which grabbed me was a large canvas made of buffalo skin. On it was a history of the tribe – one symbol per year drawn in a spiral. Many years were represented in this way. The artist had to pick one thing from the entire year to symbolize the overriding essence of the year. Early in the spiral was a symbol for a plague -a disease that had practically wiped out the tribe. It was drawn with lots of spots like measles – although I don’t remember what disease it was (possibly small pox).  The abstract art shown in Roberta Allen’s book reminded me of the tangled Ebola virus depicted under an electron microscope and flashed many times across our TV screens.” I wrote that Roberta Allen’s abstract art piece could easily be a symbol for the fear we in the US and other parts of the world are expressing this year about this Ebola pestilence.

I enjoyed this writing warm up because it combined two mediums — art and writing — and Allen nailed the concept of “energy” for me when it’s about writing on a word or phrase. Normally I would have avoided writing about Ebola. I would have written about something safe like tadpoles or tangles. But instead, by diving into my fear and abhorrence, I connected with a piece I saw in a South Dakota museum last September. I made a gut-level connection with the Native American artist — and it wasn’t planned at all. This was spontaneous, stream-of-consciousness writing warm-up.


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