A good weather Valentine from us in Colorado to...well, almost all of you

I find the weather this summer terrifying...the current horrific heat in the central states and the Northeast, the raging fires, the flooded river basins, and dust storms of the type I teach about as an environmental catastrophe occurring safely back in the Depression era. Since reading Bill McKibben's Eaarth last fall, I have felt gnawing fear at the realization that this is the new normal, that we've altered the earth sufficiently that these are the kinds of climatic extremes we and our offspring will face for as long as any of us can imagine into the future of human history. Who knows what it will mean for the ecological balance of the places we know. And that's provided we don't make it worse. When I think of the girls suffering whatever is to come, I can hardly stand it.

Those are the bleak hours. In better frames of mind, I try to remind myself that in the moment, so many of our family's hours are lovely and good. It's not a story we hear much when we log in to the bigger global news. Even as I read of terrible weather and sobering crises seemingly everywhere, if I had no access to news outlets, I'd know only that summer in the places we've spent it on balance has been beautiful. Here in Colorado we've seen sunny mornings and scattered rain and thunderstorms almost every afternoon--the typical summer pattern, we're told--so that the mountains are green and the wildflowers are blooming. We don't have air-conditioning and don't need it; if the house is a bit stuffy by day's end, we're under the comforter with a cool breeze blowing over us when we awake. Yesterday we drove up to the continental divide (a few miles west of us) to try a new hike with the girls on the opposite side of Pike's Peak. When we got out of the car at 10,000 feet it was chilly; I was thinking we'd need long-sleeved shirts or jackets, which we hadn't brought. But after about twenty minutes the clouds cleared, and we enjoyed a gorgeous afternoon at maybe 80 degrees. 

I post the pictures not to lord it over all of you who are suffering, nor to suggest that we are somehow exempt from larger global realities, but perhaps an antidote to all the sobering news (meteorological and otherwise) and as a reminder to myself not to borrow too much trouble. Here are some images and updates in case anyone else needs to be reassured, like I, that there are still places where lovely things happen each day, where the air is temperate, where people treat each other with compassion, where humans want to build up rather than tear apart, and where life is good, today, at least.

I. On Crags Trail, Divide, Colorado

The girls explore a meadow for likely camping sites, as Edith wants us to do some overnight camping before summer's end. There are some obstacles to overcome--like lack of supplies, for starters.

Alice reports back

 We run into friends/Tom's coworkers on the trail--what are the odds? Before we part ways, the kids have all splashed each other in the creek and clambered on rocks together, and Tom and I have learned that our friends run a free camping gear loan program as part of their job at our church.

  

II. New Life in the Backyard

Remember the potted beets? I figured that even if the scheme wasn't as  half-cocked as most people suggested, which it probably was, then the seedlings were doomed by my being out of town for four weeks. Lo and behold, caretaker Edith proudly showed me this when I got home. On her own volition, she had removed the screen I'd placed over the pot once the plants got too big, then gotten Tom to move the pot to a shaded patio down a flight of open steps, where she reasoned critters couldn't easily get down to bother it. Of course, putting it under the shaded porch meant the beets needed watering by hand, and she tended to that as well.

A young bunny has made its home in our backyard and is remarkably unafraid when we go out there to play tee-ball or water the plants. As long as we have grass to offer, it's happy. In the front yard we usually see a mature rabbit around dinner time--and are grateful that it makes a meal of our dandelions.

III. Fourth of July in Small-Town America

I thought I was taking a video of the Precision Lawn Mower Brigade but found I didn't have it on my camera at the end of the day. This solo act brought up the rear. Alice now pushes her doll stroller around and announces it's a Smoking Stroller.

After the parade, the whole town trooped across the railroad tracks and out to the old camp meeting grounds for a crafts fair, a local brass band bravely tackling American classics, and 20-cent hot dogs.

The field from which I got to watch the fireworks. It was actually the backyard of a local church, and the free potluck preceding the fireworks was the most abundant I've attended in 35 years of church potluck experience (including the summer of 1998, which featured nine straight weeks of church potluck dinners from Virginia to California). The dessert table alone must have had 200 options. And who needs to look beyond the dessert table?

IV. Vacation Bible School

Meanwhile, back in Colorado Tom and the girls were attending VBS. Edith's initial reaction was that it wasn't as fun as in New Jersey, where the kids got a token for a key chain collection every day. But in the Springs they did a different service project every day, and by Friday when she got to deliver homemade pet food to the local animal shelter, she had changed her mind. Pictures by Edith: