the bears are back in town…

Last week, they began having picnics in our backyard. We would wake up to a giant pile of trash—which they’d dragged over from the restaurant across the street—all scattered across the lawn. They love that spot in the corner. In the trees. One morning we saw one of them scampering away in the early dawn.

In the middle of the night, the dog woke us up and scratched the door. This was weird. This time of year, he doesn’t go out at night. Usually. He seems to know there are creatures out, and he’s a big boy — he can hold it. Still, we thought perhaps he had a tummy ache, so I opened the door for him, and he raced across the yard, barking a deep-growly bark that I’d never heard. Apparently, he was trying to scare the bear away. In the meantime, I yelped his name, and T leapt out of bed, and we bumped heads in a moment of chaos. T ended up with a big blood blister, poor fellow, but the dog came bounding back in one piece, scared out of his wits. He was the only one who got to see Mr. Bear up close.

The city told us there are two ‘275ers’ and one ‘400′ in town. We aren’t sure which one(s) have invaded our back yard, but I’m determined to get a photo before the summer ends…

oopsy, one month..

…has gone by.

I promised I wouldn’t write anything until I had something other than snow to complain about. Or something to not complain about. I was inspired Monday, but that’s because Monday it snowed. Yes, Monday, May 4th.

But now it is Wednesday and not snowing and 60 degrees and I am not complaining. I am terrifically and madly and marvelously inspired to announce the spring. She is here! The ground is now peppered with spots of green, emerging from the damp depths of the long winter, the landscape is scattered with tiny miracles. Little crocuses are trying to pop their heads up, to peek at the sunshine. Even the collapsed aspen in our yard has risen from the dead! Poor little dear was flat on the ground when the heavy snow melted around it, but in only a few days, it has begun to lift, and lift, and now it stands, the burden of cold wetness no longer holding it down.

Meanwhile, it is impossible not to feel this same merriment taking place in town, the smiles at the post office, the jovial faces on the patio. T-shirts! Flip-flops! We have finally freed our closets!

red things

The sky turned red orange on Friday afternoon. For several hours. What is it? we mused at the grocery store.

The world is coming to an end, they told us.

It’s a fire, we decided. (I surrendered my idea of breath-taking sunset when I realized it was only 4:30).

Apparently, a neighbor explained, it was actually sand, blowing over from Utah. This proved true the next day, when the snow — all over the town and the mountain — was coated with red brown gook.

This made interesting snow conditions for the last day of the season (yesterday). It was a little like skiing on dirt, but not too bad, and the whole town was there for the party anyway.

Particularly one long-haired fellow, who was skiing naked (with a small cloth covering his front side). He’d just gone down the North Face, and apparently gone down, since he had an enormous strawberry covering his whole right butt cheek.

Shivering on the chair lift (it was cold), we discussed this wound with two rowdy strangers. His girlfriend probably painted that on him, for effect, one of them said. That thing was too brutal.

No dude, said the other. It was real.

forgive me, I have sinned.

Just to clarify…. it’s not exactly ugly out here.

how’s it snowing where you are?

… asks my sister, from Jackson Hole, WY.

It is snowing well, yes indeed, snowing and snowing and snowing. The roof continues to avalanche, the snow plows continue to rumble, the snow blowers contine to grumble, the snow shovelers get richer, Clarissa tries not to sulk.

Tim brought tulips, which have restored my faith in spring. It’s out there somewhere, it will come here someday.  I will see the dirt, again…! the ground… !

Wait, I’m having deja vu… You’d think, given how rarely I write, I could at least think of a new topic. My apologies. Is snow news is better than no news?

I am tired of winter.

Yes it’s beautiful and snowy and fresh and fun (sledding! skiing! snow-shoeing!). But I have had enough. I want flowers, I want sunshine, I want lemonade!

I have just realized that winter is almost half the year in this little town. That is a long time. A too-long time. I am looking at the crusty snow out my window, which is taller than I am, and wondering if there really is grass under all that, or if perhaps I just imagined it. Sigh. At least, can it warm up a little? My bones are achy, I’m an old lady.

Netflix thievery

I got a Netflix slip in my PO box, with an apology reading: Dear Postal Customer: We sincerely regret the damage to your mail during handling by the Postal service… etc, etc.

My Netflix account registered that my delivered movie had been watched and returned. Not by me. By them. They, whomever they are, always open our Netflix. Usually they give them back, open but undamaged, a few days after the anticipated delivery. This isn’t a big deal: I’m a non-TV-owner on a 2-per-month plan and I don’t care if the movie is late. But the principle of it is intriguing.

Who are they? How many movies can they possibly watch? Also a little secret: they are not fond of foreign films, and they don’t take those; they simply open the envelope and slip it back in your box. Box office hits,  though, they love — and those will disappear for awhile.  Now that we’ve figured out what they like, I just have to decide whether I’m in the mood to share before I order…

waking up from a nap, in my yard

do not be fooled by the size of them apples

In the wintertime, fresh fruit becomes scarce in this little town of ours. You will always find browning bananas and limp-looking lettuce, but this is not so yummy. You might be tempted by the strawberries but they are throwing mad mold parties under the surface, they’d love for your tongue to join, but your tongue will find that it’s in bad taste. Don’t even think about plums or peaches or even a good orange.

In Gunny, though, there are blueberries and papayas and other heavenly fruits from far off places. Thus, when I end up over there for a doctor’s appointment or some such, I fill my cart with these jewels, loading it up with freshness and antioxidants. Unfortunately, I saw some enormous Honey Crisp apples this week, and I opted for them instead of my Pink Lady favorites. They were so huge and shiny and delicious looking that I thought surely… Have you ever eaten an apple that tastes like a potato? Yick.

let it snow, let it snow…

My car is quivering. Apparently, it has snow in it. This morning, I spent 45-minutes shoveling it out from under the heaps of white, but the piles underneath did some damage. I imagine sleeping in lumpy snow would do me some damage as well.

My car is not the only thing quivering under several feet of new snow. In the house, washing dishes, suddenly there’s a rumble from above and piles of snow come crashing down from the roof. It’s a frequent happening, these days: avalanches under the eaves of houses. Excuse the low-quality phone photo, but here’s a look out Tim’s window:

Despite the quivering, the town is beautiful and defiant, besieged by snow. Under the layers of weight that slide on her surface, she remains the same underneath, she stays strong through the turbulence. The snow folds beautifully across her, like dress that fits, like a kiss from nature.