Trail booty! I've been hunting for one of these for years...
I show my amore for Sabina by collecting her interesting rocks whilst on walkabout. She does so for me by finding me bits of skeleton. Other couples might tarry about with jewels and cards and candies and all that other romantic yotz. We trade bones; the bones of Gaia, the bones of other species. That's true love.
***
The historical society has been holding the Cabin Fever Dance for six years now. Many of the attendees have known me for longer. Yet, everymuthafuckingyear the question of why I don't dance is raised.
"Well, you see, I have this horrific genetic condition," I reply. "And I don't mean my connective-tissue disorder."
"Oh? What's that?" It is asked.
"Caucasian," I say.
Dancing at a vampire den is not rocket science; just move with the music and relax in the knowledge you probably can't look half as ridiculous as some of the other tossers out on the floor. In fact, if you want to see something funny, watch a group of vampires dance. Better yet, film it and play it back at slightly faster speed, seeing as that caste likes to do everything on a dance floor in slow motion.
Dancing all punk-rock like-e.g. moshing-is basically a street fight you don't have to worry about getting thrown in jail for. Just know when to duck and hope you don't get too banged up. So I've heard.
The concept of town-dance dancing is neither my cup of tea nor glass of water. Better luck asking me to write a sonnet and mean it. Ergo, my remarking of genetic issues and watching from dark corners with my wine.
This, however, did not stop the matron from dragging me out on the dance floor. Something about loosening me up. I get any looser, I might whistle when I walk. Although I hugged her after the fact, I still called her cantankerous.
"Hey, it's me," she said completely unapologetically.
***
I broke out a pair of sandals for the first time in months. We had a chiminea that night. Everything seems a month ahead in terms of seasonal changes and temperatures. One meteorological prophet suggested that perhaps the state's snow pack has already peaked. I told a traveler the other day I've not snowshoed since the beginning of the month what for the quality of snow. When we've wandered, it's been south faces with gaiters. We check for ticks.
A few inches of snow fell overnight, mostly melted away by noon. I was wandering the Bull's Head, searching for a particular artifact. It is either still buried under the snow on the backside of the rock formation or it has been moved. If moved, I have a pretty good idea of where and just might come calling.
There was a breeze and bright sun. More snow is foretold for overnight, but a repeat of last night's in terms of accumulation. Then warm again for many days. A musician of my acquaintance greeted me with happy sprung! the other night. Thus is the cycle.
Out in the bush is where I hear the rhythms and rhymes of the cosmos, and, if I could, might dance to it. Coming out from the backside of the Bull's Head by the Diamond Mine, I looked at a slice of rock I like to scrabble. Most of its ice and snow has melted from it and I felt the itch to climb. This got me to smile.
"Soon enough," I whispered.
Do you ever see any live bighorn sheep up there? Just from what I could see that looked like an old sheep when it died.
ReplyDeleteOn my way over here (Seattle) last week I went over three mountain passes, none of which had any snow. Could be a very dry summer.
There's a herd of roughly two-hundred fifty-DOW doesn't let it get much more than that-who love the south faces of our little valley. Sometimes, when trekking, I've run into groups that stand their ground and I go the other way, or I am alerted to their passing by the rocks they kick up as running up the mountainside. Having herd dogs-well, now just dog-this can sometimes be an interesting proposition, as they want to follow their basic wiring.
DeleteWe figure winter kill that was scavenged. I could've grabbed his spinal column and pelvis too, but I already have those pieces of anatomy, and, the skull itself was easily forty pounds, if an ounce. It was fun hauling it the half mile back to the vehicle.
We've got snow on the passes still. However, barring a major storm and sharpish, it'll all pretty well be gone by May, instead of June or July.
I think bone exchange is rather charming. Then again, I've always been enchanted by the organic world beneath the skin we all wear....our souls and motives as well as the sinews and tendons and such. Dancing? (I did laugh at your "Caucasian" bit, may I use that?) Only alone, in the rain....at night. :)
ReplyDeleteI've been collecting bones for years. There's more than a few skulls hung out on the back folly/barn/shed, altar, and various shelves. Certainly, there are those who might find such a practice morbid, but I too find them fascinating.
DeleteOf course you can use the Caucasian line...;)