Sidetracked Charley

Elusive Promise by J. Binford-Bell I first saw mountains at age seven. I was a flatlander from Missouri and my father, then a major in the Air Force, was being transferred to the base in Roswell. As the land rose and rolled I glued myself to the windows of the train in total awe. It was love at first sight. But loving mountains can be a cruel relationship. You have to take them totally on their terms. There is little wiggle room for negotiation. You build at their feet, at the closest, if you are wise, and with what is called a defensible perimeter. To build in the trees, as is very popular now, is folly. It is like wanting to live in the kindling of a fire pit as the former residents of the outskirts of Ft. Collins and Colorado Springs and Ruidoso have found out. And even living at the base of a mountain is tough. Mountains create their own weather in the best of times. I have sat on my porch in the valley and watched the clouds materialize out of a clear blue sky and build t

High Tunnel with sides raised As I wrote in a previous blog gardening was do or die this year. When I first moved to my house in the high country some 17 years ago I immediately built two 8 x 4 raised beds and proceeded to provide for not must me but neighbors. What I could raise was a bit more limited than in other areas I have lived in because of the climate but we had a solid 90 to 100 day growing season. Last frost was generally around the 1st of June. The great news was with temps seldom above 82 F in the summer lettuce and spinach did not bolt. I dreamed of an attached green house that would provide passive solar for winter months and allow me to get a start on plants to go outside in June. As I planned the green house grew and when construction began in 2007 the beds had to be moved. Long establish herbs like Tarragon had to be moved and did not survive their temporary containers. Despite efforts there was no gardening in 2007 or 2008. Two 4 x 4 beds just didn't see

Self Portrait by J. Binford-Bell I am  a graduate of multiple 12 Step Programs. In my thirties I decided I was a total mess. Something clearly had to be done. And since it was sanity or insanity I did it. I force marched myself through three programs. I don't do meetings any more. At least formal ones but it seems that all my friends are recovering alcoholics, or adult children of alcoholics, or recovering over-eaters, or are or should be in Alanon. So from time to time over coffee a step gets mentioned in shorthand or the quote on Acceptance alluded to or the Serenity Prayer paraphrased in a humorous way. And events constantly remind me I am not the center of any universe but the one of my own making which can be imaginary. I live by step 10 - Continued to take personal inventory and when wrong promptly admitted it. But I am the first to admit I can abuse it too because if I am guilty then I have to power to change it. Powerlessness can be an issue. Sometimes powerlessness

Magic by J. Binford-Bell Facing my 49th high school reunion. And not joyfully. As I have written in this blog before high school was painful. If I had to pick a theme for those years it would be Bill Cosby's words of God in his skit Noah: "How long can you tread water?" Leaving aside the "events" of high school, which would have been rough at any age, there was just me and who I wasn't. I felt so not ready to be there. And I was so not there in so many ways because my focus had to be on home and taking care of my family. But I was also so painfully shy, full of fear and 16 going on 80. A told a counselor decades later that I felt as if I lived behind a plexiglass shield about three inches thick. Mother said I was a late bloomer. I replied that by the time I bloomed the rest of the garden would be under a foot of snow. College saved my life. College and being a military brat. I learned what a force march was way back in the second grade from my fat

Self-portrait of photographer A funny thing happens on the way to no free time: I get more done. Put it another way the more time constraints in my schedule the more use I make of what little time is available to me. The larger block of time available to be used as I want the less likely I am to use it to clean the house. Taking a totally free day with no obligations to do something like wash all the windows seems like such a total waste!!! It has to be the artist in me. I am not an idle person. Nor lazy. I love the grand project. Given ample money I would gladly stucco my whole house. I have thought how to do it in easy stages. But nix that. No money. To make money I have been pet sitting and taking on the odd job (smaller than a handyman special but larger than do it yourself). Both ventures can be rather lucrative from time to time but can really break up your day. Tomorrow I have three visits each to two clients. I could add another cat in the mornings or evenings but dogs

Ripples in the Pond by J. Binford-Bell Turned 67 yesterday. Birthdays are not like those of my youth. Of note was turning 21 twice. It was easier to fake ID's in those days. I made the mistake of celebrating my 21st birthdays at the same bar and the bartender remembered. "Happy 21st Birthday Again," he said. Most bars in Albuquerque during those days gave you a free drink on your legal age birthday. The key was to hit as many of them with your friends as possible. Central Avenue was lined with bars. No way could you get to them all. So you picked a side - north or south. And a direction - east to west or west to east. I obviously picked the same side and the same direction twice. Hell, my 21st birthdays were a couple of years apart. Maybe three. This birthday it was ice tea (not the Long Island kind) with dinner at Calamity Jane's in Eagle Nest. It only has two bars. One on each side of the street. The big gift of the evening was a fishing license. I now qual