A Day Like No Other

 

 

            Cherry and Blue woke and came out to enjoy the fire in the crispy air of the Home Clearing. They found Ramona and Marge and Maeve sitting together waiting for the fishermen to come home.
            But, the first to arrive were Bob and Berry who had been romping around in the snow out by Uncle Bob’s place. Aunt Suzie had been feeding them snacks of left over turkey deemed a little rough for herself and Uncle Bob, so they were full and happy boys.
            The sun rose higher in the sky. The small flakes of snow drifting down flashed like miniscule mirrors when they crossed a beam. A small wind came to visit for a moment, scattering the snow before its breath. All was peace.
            Just as it began to feel to Ramona as if it was getting to be time to start something to eat, a deep familiar voice was heard from the direction of the river. It was Ralph, himself, of course, singing a song of praise and pure joy. He sang and laughed alternately, as if he knew a secret and could barely contain it.
            Then he appeared. Oh, it’s so hard to express the impression he made on Marge, or even the ones who knew him best. He was very big, but more than that, he embodied something larger than physical size, 9 ft. of greatness. He shone when the sun hit him. Even with the grey in his black beard he was beautiful, but maybe that gray was no detraction, maybe it added to it. Of course it did. An atmosphere of happiness seemed to surround him and travel with him.
            Coming with him was Twigg, who would never reach his father’s height. He was maybe 7ft. tall, and of a lighter color, a rich brown. He had the sack of fish slung over his shoulder.
            Twigg was much like his mother. The overall impression was of sweetness, a kind and thoughtful young fellow.
            “We bring unto you these many fish who rallied to my call,” laughed Ralph. “Do with them as you will, Mona!” Or something equivalent in Saslingua, the love language of Forest Keepers
            Then, “Marge! It’s good to see you! Can you stay for a fishy dinner?” sang Ralph.
            “Thank you, yes! I will,” said Marge, completely dazzled.
            “That’s good! Twigg, your dear friend is here!” said the father.
            “I see!” said Twigg. “Are you all done at the campground for the winter, Margie?”
            “Yeah,” she said. “I decided to pack up and leave a day early, because there was no reason to hang around one more day. I decided to come in and see you all before I took all my junk back to my old bedroom at mom’s house.”
            Twigg gave the sack of wiggly fish to his mother and plopped down right beside Marge.
            “Evermore!” sang Maeve and flew off into the sky, to wherever Ravens go when they fly off.
            “Is there anything I can do to help you, Ramona,” said Marge. “I don’t want to just sit here and let you work.”
            Ramona looked at the girl for a moment and said, “Would you like to help clean fish? I only have one knife, but maybe we can trade off..”
            “Wait,” said Twigg. “I’ll loan Marge my knife. It’s in its bag inside. Hang on.”
            So, Twigg fetched his new Swiss army knife for Marge to use. And Ramona taught her how to clean trout for the pan. Between the two of them the job went very quickly. Each cleaned fish was dropped into the five gallon bucket that was half full of clean water.
            Ramona sang an old Firekeeper song, and Marge tried to follow along a little under her breath. Ramona noticed this, because she notices everything.
            Marge dried off Twigg’s knife with a paper towel she had in her pocket, making sure it was clean and dry before she returned it to him.
            Then Ramona got the big flat pan out of the cave, and put a few more pieces of deadfall on the fire. She laid the pan on the grill over the fire and when it got hot she put a good big lump of butter on it, courtesy of Thaga, of course.
            She and Marge shook the water off of each fish as they laid it in the hot butter. Ramona added some salt to the trout.
            It doesn’t take long to cook fish this way. One flip and in a few minutes they were done.
            It was a good thing the fisherman had caught a lot of fish, because it was fish only this time. But it was very good, and there was lots for everyone, including Blue, and Berry and Bob, of course.
            Then Ramona made coffee, for the special occasion.
            “I’ll clean up,” said Ramona. “Twigg, why don’t you show Marge the spot you’ve chosen out in the meadow. The snow isn’t very deep.”
            “Do you want to see?” Twigg asked Marge and she said she did. She had her boots on too.
            “We’ll be back before dark,” Twigg told those around the fire. Bob and Berry wanted to go too, so they let them. What could be better than to tromp through a snowy meadow with a couple of leaping pumas?
            Twigg and Marge visited the Gifting Stump first. It looked a little forlorn there with a cap of frozen snow on top. Twigg knocked the snow off, but then they decided it didn’t look much better that way, and there wasn’t anything to decorate it with. So they had to leave it there without its cap of snow.
            “We could put a small snowman up there,” said Marge, after explaining what that was, but the snow was too frozen to roll anyhow.
            “I’ve been thinking that it was just about time for me to have a home that is mine,” said Twigg. “So, I started thinking about the little house I made for the B’s, and I knew about the Basket House Benny made for Lily out in the forest near Concrete, and I thought, you know, I bet I can do that better and bigger and stronger.
            “So, I looked around here on the edge of the firs for an area of alders, but young alders, so that I could use them for sort of the bones of my house. I would leave their roots in the ground and bend them in a dome shape.
            “Of course, I have to wait until spring to get started. The snow is going to get deeper out here and the stuff I need will be all covered in snow,” said Twigg. “Sounds like a big job, huh,” he grinned. “But I know I can make a living house! Maybe a big one!”
            “I don’t have any doubt,” said Marge. “I expect that you will.”
            “I’m going to try,” said Twigg. And he smiled his sweet smile at her.
            “Maybe as the trees grow taller, you could add a second floor,” said Marge.
            “That’s a good idea!” said Twigg.
            “OK, we better go back to the fire, and warm you up. You’re not weatherproof like I am,” said Twigg.
            So they followed their trail back through the snow and into the Home Clearing and found seats by the fire. It was true that Marge had gotten chilled, so she was glad to sit there and visit with the family some more.
            The sun was preparing a winter sunset. It was beginning to get darker and colder. The wind whispered something through the trees.
            “I think I had better go. This was the best day ever,” said Marge. “I need to move back into my old bedroom. Enid and Arthur are expecting me tomorrow, but today is fine too. So, I better go do it.”
            “You’re always welcome,” said Ralph.
            “Come any time,” said Ramona.
            Twigg walked with Marge to the ranger station parking lot and watched as she fired up the old gray Honda, to make sure she got going. Then he watched as she drove out of the parking lot. At last the sound of the engine faded and she was gone.

💚

Goodbye 2025

 

            How shall we describe the year that has nearly passed?
            It would be easy to make reference to the blind men describing different parts of the elephant in the room, wouldn’t it? And yet, it’s true isn’t it? Does it depend on what is, is, to quote that bad monkey, Bill Clinton?
            Yes, that elephant named 2025 was different for each of us. A lot of it all, out on a global level stunk, really badly. But on a personal level, we had triumphs, progress and happiness, didn’t we? I’d hazard to say that it was mostly good. I think it depends on where the gaze is directed and where the heart resides, on a higher trajectory.
            I had fun this year publishing some really odd books. Hey, if I can do it, anybody can!
            The vision in my mind that has persisted is of high mountain peaks rising from a dark landscape, but with the morning sunlight revealing them brilliantly, in contrast. It is a picture of my hopes for the coming year. A high country, above all else. A metaphor.
            Please do comment!
            You know that the cats will have plenty to say, eventually.

🌸

 

*The photo is by flippantsmeagol on Tumblr.

Breaking Camp

 

            It was only December 30^th, but Marge decided to pack up early. It was going to be a bigger job than moving in had been. It always is. She had acquired a few things since that day, such as the Christmas tree and the string of lights.
            Her beater Accord, parked in one of the spots there at the campground was going to be full.
            There was bedding, with two big pillows. Her rather basic wardrobe of clothing and toiletries,  her few dishes and pans, some groceries. Ah, then she remembered to clean up the fridge.
            The bedding and clothing and the Christmas tree went into the back seat. The kitchen junk went into the trunk.
            Twigg’s basket sat on the passenger side seat.
            The last thing she put into the trunk was her string of lights all in a loose pile.
            She drained the faucet as directed.
            Marge was pretty ambivalent about moving in with Enid and Arthur. Having a stepfather at her age felt silly. Maybe she would think of him only as Enid’s new husband. Well, he did give Enid someone else to concentrate on.
            For breakfast she finished off the last of a quart of milk, drinking it out of the carton to save dirtying dishes, and she ate the last of the corned beef. She smiled remembering those big sandwiches.
            Her last chore was to take Ranger Rick the key to the mobile.
            She took a last look at the small mobile. The sky was clouding up; it looked like more snow soon. The air was cold. The sun slipped behind a cloud and suddenly it felt like winter. She shivered, more from a state of mind than body. The forest brooded.
            Hondas never die, so the old beast started right up. She rolled slowly out of the campground and down to the station parking lot and found a spot next to Dexter’s ride. It wasn’t any better than her own. Rick’s truck was not there.
            When she stepped through the office door, she found the room empty, but heard sounds out in the kitchen area.
            “Dexter, I’m leaving. I brought the key,” said Marge.
            “Oh, I was washing cups and stuff,” he said. “I’m babysitting the office. There isn’t much to do right now.”
            “Where shall I put the key,” said Marge.
            “Oh, I don’t know where he keeps it. Just put it on his desk,” said Dexter. “Um, do you think you’ll be back in the spring, Marge?”
            “I’m tentatively planning on it, but I’m not sure of anything, really, right now,” she said.
            He rolled his sleeves back down and buttoned the cuffs. “I hope you do.”
            “Thanks, Dexter. I hope you don’t expire from boredom out here.”
            “I might,” he said, and laughed a little ruefully.
            Marge laid the brass mobile key on Rick’s desk front and center and left the building.
            Tiny twinkling snowflakes were falling. The air was dead calm. The forest waited.
            She went to her car door and stood there as if she were thinking. She glanced at the heavy dark trees.
            Marge remembered being able to enter the Home Clearing from the meadow direction without any difficulty. She decided to try it from this side. She was drawn there, lonely for the family there. Her mom wasn’t expecting her today anyhow. She felt change in the air. A free day, in any case.
            More snow was falling. It caught in her dark hair, like stars. She walked around the dumpster to Ralph’s path and entered there.
            A great black Raven watched from a high branch, then flew deeper into the forest.
            The path opened in front of Marge. It showed itself to her clearly. The way to go was obvious.
            As she walked two great tawny cats joined her on either side. She placed a hand on each head. Bob and then Berry smiled cat smiles up at her face, and then nodded down the way. Soon she could see a clearing opening up. It was familiar but now she was coming from the opposite side. She could see a fire burning brightly at its center, and there was a figure sitting by the fire looking watchful.
            She walked on. Bob and Berry accompanied her ceremonially.
            “Hello, Daughter,” said Ramona. “Welcome to my fire. Come and sit with me.”
            So, Marge, little reader, thinker, artist, walked to Ramona and took a seat beside her.
            “Ramona, I missed you. I wanted to see you before I left the camp for the winter,” she said. The fire felt wonderfully warm and bright as she gazed into it.
            “Ralph and Twigg are fishing. Cherry and Blue are sleeping inside. Tell me, my dear, how are you today?” said Ramona.
            “I don’t quite know, Mother Ramona,” said Marge. “I am neither here nor there, it seems. I don’t know where to be, or where I belong.”
            Ramona turned and looked at the girl sitting there with snow in her hair and tears in her eyes. Her expression became even softer, and she sighed.
            “Tell me about your father, Child,” she said at last.
            “My father was a wild man. He died on a mountain somewhere,” said Marge. “I never knew him. He was gone before my birth.”
            “I’m not surprised,” said Ramona. “I see wildness in you. It’s no wonder that you don’t know where you belong.”
            “The last time I spoke with Twigg’s father, I told him that I wished that I could be one of you here, and he said no one but I had ever said that to him,” Marge said.
            “It’s true, no one else ever said that to us,” said Ramona. “But you see, there is no difference, only some can’t see it. Can you see it, Marge?”
            “I see only that I love you, and Cherry and Ralph and Twigg with all of my heart, and I see no difference in love,” said Marge.
            Ramona nodded and was silent. They watched the flames together for a while.
            Maeve floated softly down from the tree tops then, landing on Marge’s shoulder as she did with Ralph. She had nothing to say, but only laid her head against Marge’s head. She made a soft sort of raven cooing for comfort.

💚

Dexter's Blues

 

 

            In his own way Dexter was a bluesman. Oh, he didn’t play but he could listen and he could feel. Sometimes he thought the music ran clear down into his toes and pooled there. A lot was unstated but very deeply felt.
            He had been listening to an old guy; Snowy White, do Midnight Blues.
            It took him an hour every working day morning to drive into the ranger station in the national forest. He lived in a studio apartment in downtown Arlington. It was a nice, boring place. He never spoke to a soul there and they never spoke to him.
            Honestly, the song brought him to tears and he wasn’t sure why. It wasn’t that his life was like that. He hadn’t left some girl behind him, and then regretted the decision. He’d never had a girl. Maybe that was all it was, after all.
            Lonely Dexter Morton, National Forest Ranger trainee. Red hair. Thin, soft spoken.
            He was thinking about the girl at the campground. Marge. He wondered what she thought of himself. He wondered if she even registered that he was alive.
            Dex, as his mom called him, rolled out of bed. He padded to the kitchen area and set up a pot of coffee. Then he got into the shower. He dressed after that in his uniform, fried a couple of eggs, made two slices of whole wheat toast and buttered the heck out of them with real butter. Life was hard enough without having to eat margarine on his toast.
            He ate his breakfast in about five minutes and drank two cups of coffee with sugar and cream. He didn’t even have a cat to say goodbye to.
            Driving, he listened to some more Snowy. Why do I still have the blues? Good question. The question actually.
            Pulling into his parking spot next to Rick’s truck, he took a moment to dress his mind in its workday clothes. He tried to leave the blues in the Honda, but in the back of his mind he could still hear that guitar snarl.
            The open sign was already up inside the window next to the door. He wasn’t late. Rick was just like that. Rick always wanted to beat the clock a little.
            When he opened the office door, warmth and the smell of coffee greeted him. It was cold outside, with a few inches of frozen snow. The sky had been deeply blue, a winter blue with the light just coming up on his way in.
            Rick was seated behind his desk with a 20oz mug of his lousy coffee and a box of doughnuts. He was poking at his laptop computer with one forefinger. Must be just surfing thought Dexter.
            “You made it!” said Rick in Dexter’s general direction.
            “The road was OK,” agreed Dexter. “Good morning, Rick.” He hung his coat in the back room on a hook.
            “I have doughnuts! Help yourself,” said Rick, amiably, while chewing.
            Dexter went into the kitchen nook and got a cup of the awful coffee. He could hear Rick’s muted radio playing out in the other room. It was playing Alvin Lee, the Bluest Blues. He knew the song. It struck him as a bit old timey to use a separate radio. Most people just listen on their computer, don’t they, he thought. Well, Rick was darn near 50 years old.
            “Do you think she’s alright up there?” Dexter asked Rick. “It seems weird that she’s there when we don’t have many campers.” He chose a chocolate doughnut.
            “She’ll be going home by the end of the month,” said Rick. “Why don’t you mosey up there and see if she’s OK, cowboy?”
            “She probably has a phone,” said Dexter. “I’d feel like a goof.”
            “Nah, put your coat back on and go tell her to drain the outdoor faucet and to be sure to remember to drop off the key before she leaves,” said Rick.
            So he did put his coat back on, taking a beanie his mom had knit of black wool out of a pocket and cramming it down over his ears, he left the office. The sun was coming up, glinting off of the frozen snow. The sky was profoundly blue. His cloudy breath blew away over his head in a slight cold breeze. He could hear crows chatting somewhere up in the tree tops.
            As he walked up to the camping area he saw large footprints in the snow. They were frozen in the snow, so it had been hours, probably were made the night before and he  had a very good idea whose footprints they were. Nevertheless, he was on official business, so he trekked on.
            Dexter knocked on the blue door again. He waited, watching his breath for a minute.
            He heard her unlock the door and then it opened.
            “Dexter? Is everything OK down there?” said Marge. She looked just the same as the last time he had been there, ready to assist campers if there had been any.
            “Hi, Marge. Yeah. Rick told me to come up here and see if you were alive and to remind you to drain the outside faucet and to bring him your key when you go home for the winter.”
            “Come in. It’s cold out there. He could have phoned me,” said Marge.
            “That’s what I said, but he said to put my coat back on and come up here in person. Who am I to argue with the boss?” said Dexter.
            “Well, have a seat. Warm up for a minute. I have tea. Do you like tea?” she said.
            “Sure, thanks. I don’t mind tea. Better than Rick’s coffee!” he said.
            So, he sat on a kitchen chair beside the small fake Christmas tree as it twinkled away. She got him a mug of tea and put the sugar bowl and a spoon beside him, just in case, and took the other chair.
            “Nice basket,” said Dexter. “Did you make it?”
            “No! I don’t know how to do that! I can paint, but I can’t do that. Twigg made it for my Christmas gift,” said Marge, rather proudly.
            “He sure did a good job,” said Dexter. He drank his tea unsugared and quickly. 

            “I better go see if Rick has any other great plans for me today. Thanks for the tea, Marge. Stay warm!”
            “That’s the plan,” she said as he left.
            As he followed the big frozen footprints back down to the ranger station he thought of Marge and smiled. She seemed like a faraway landscape, warm and scented and golden. He wasn’t hearing the blues at all.

💙

A Bedtime Fable

 

            I was tired. I was so tired it felt like an out of body experience. In my mind’s eye I could see myself flopped out on the bed sideways, fully dressed. Man, that woman looked pooped with her arms flung out in full surrender.
            It had been a couple of days, and a half. Tis the season, right? Jolly with undernotes of fraught. Today had been the big day. There was the roast. Then there were the potatoes, the salad, finger foods, drinkables, fruitcake, those things. There were the dishes. The flowers sat in center stage, a signal.
            Roses in December!
            There had been tears, and reconciliation, but as wonderful as that was, it takes a lot out of a woman to be the facilitator. Her mind wandered, hinting at sleep. I could see that I was losing focus there on the bed. Anybody could have seen it.
            I had instructed all of my various relations that I wanted nothing. Please. The stuff of a lifetime surrounded me. No more!
            What did this woman want for Christmas, she asked herself with a laugh, alone there in the dark bedroom. Performing some combination of wish and dream, she told herself that she wanted someone to put her to bed. Let someone else do the heavy lifting for once! She was too tired.
            The tired woman wished to be tended by tigers. It was, admittedly, odd, but then she might have been dreaming. Tiger lady’s maids. Helpful tigers. Beautiful tigers…
            “I wish that tigers would put me to bed and let me sleep!” she whispered. “I can’t do it.”
            The closet door was standing open, as it usually was. In the dark recesses, at the back, under the hanging clothing, there was an alien sound. A light windiness. Some rustling, and after that quiet padded footsteps.
            Heavy footsteps coming nearer.
            An impossible, huge striped face popped out of the closet opening and paused. Her golden eyes scanned the room then seized on the woman lying sideways on top of the bed. The rest of the impossibility followed its face into the room. Another followed. They glanced at each other, nearly nodded and approached the bed.
            The first tiger, who shall be named Myrna, rumbled deeply in her chest. She knew her work. Such tigers are very wise.
            The following tiger, Philina, rumbled her agreement.
            Each tiger took one of the sleeper’s hands in her gentle mouth, as she would have picked up a kitten, and pulled the lady to a sitting position. Her head flopped forward and her hair, falling out of its clip, hung down nearly to her lap.
            The lady wore a long sleeved red sweater. Myrna and Philina each gripped a side of the sweater at its hem and pulled it forward until it popped clear of the woman’s form. The sleeves cleared her last. She wore a sport bra. A one piece thing. They dealt with it in the same fashion.
            Then Myrna, with a little wuff, gave her a soft push, allowing her to lie back down across her bed. She lay there without motion. Her dark hair was fanned out around her head in tangles.
            Myrna looked around the room. She seemed to know what she wanted. At last she found the nightgown hanging on a hook behind the bedroom door. She rose up on her hind feet, taller than the door, so that she could unhook it, then she carried it over to the bed.
            The woman wore sandals. Philina, using her teeth gently, pulled them off of the woman’s feet and set them together neatly under the bed. They wouldn’t be lost in the morning.
            Getting her out of her jeans was harder. But they did it inch by inch, rolling her from side to side and tugging.
            Myrna hung the jeans on the hook on the back of the door first. Then she hung the sweater over it, so as not to leave any untidiness for morning.
            Then they set to work putting her nightgown over her head. First they had to sit her up again. Working together using their teeth they settled it over her head.
            “Stand up, please,” said Myrna in a voice like butterscotch. And like an obedient sleepy child the woman stood, and the nightgown’s hem fell down around her feet. But her arms still weren’t in the sleeves.
            “Sally,” whispered Philina, “Put your arms into your sleeves, please.”
            And Sally did as she was bidden.
            Philina’s golden eyes looked on in fond approval. Her whiskers were wonderful to behold when she was pleased.
            While Sally was still standing, Myrna climbed up on the bed like the tiger in some old painting, and carefully pulled the covers back.
            Sally still stood there in her long white nightgown, dreaming perhaps.
            Myna and Philina each put her head under one of Sally’s arms and guided her to bed. Myrna pulled the covers up to Sally’s chest level and then she hopped back down to the floor.
            Sally looked just about right lying there.
            But, being tigers, there was one more thing. As tenderly as the mothers they were, they scrubbed her face and hands with their rough tongues until they felt she was clean enough to be allowed to sleep.
            Some wind could be hear softly sighing in the back of the closet. Myrna looked at Philina and then at the closet.
            First Myrna, then Philina padded softly to the open closet door. One large striped body after the other disappeared into its depths. Nothing remained, not even a whisper of wind. The hanging clothing shifted a bit and then was still.
            In the bed, Sally smiled and rolled over onto her left side. Sleepily, she pulled her pillow down into a better position. She placed her hands just so. She felt as if she might sleep until noon the next day. Not a doubt about it. None at all.

Northbound I-5 by the Fogline

            Since I was driving my daughter back to Seattle anyhow, we decide to take a look at some of the flooded areas around the town of Snohomish. This involved taking old Broadway south out of Everett, and turning left on the Lowell-Larimer road which goes down to the level of the Snohomish River and follow it along into the small city of Snohomish. All of these shots were take by Navigator.

            We had the window down and it was very chilly and wet out there. 

            These photographs are taken of the area across the road from the actual river.

            In town, we saw that the river was back down into its bed, but the fields all around were still full of water.

            We checked to see if it was possible to drive across the valley shown in the video yesterday. But it was still closed, thought was obvious that the water level across the valley was going down.

            The best way to get out of the area was to take Highway 9 southward, so that's what I did. We visited Woodinville on the way to Bothell and then on to Seattle proper.

            It was a very dim, grey, rainy trip.

            Not much of a day for photos!

Notice the tractor up to its engine in water?

 

            One of those houses along that road where it has flooded many times. The wise man built his house with a big flow through basement level!

            Unfortunately, this is the tweaker camp. The city lets them stay.

            Bound for home finally. This is the intersection of 65th and Roosevelt Way in Seattle's University district. The sun was trying to get through the clouds a little. It was nice, not raining there. But on I-5 about when I got to Shoreline it started raining. It was a thick rainfall. It was like that all the way to Everett. I really did have to keep my eye on the fogline!

            So, that's my December 26th report. Glad to be out of the rain!

💦

Just A Word From Our Sponsor

 

            

            Hey, greetings everybody! I thought I'd just stop by and say "Hi!" I also had another great idea! You know, great ideas are how I roll!

            I'm here to issue a standing invitation for you to come on up and visit the Great Forest. I'll be here. We might even bump into each other, if we're both lucky at the same time.

            Sometimes it looks dark and gloomy here, but it's not really like that.

             It's grey, soft, obscure...a dreamy landscape where anything is possible.

            While I'm at it, does anybody have anything you'd like to ask me? If I'm not around just whistle up Maeve and she'll bring me the message on mighty black wings. 

            It's been a heck of a great year. 

            Love, RALPH

🌿