Ending With a Tradition

We end the year 2022 with a tradition.

Beginning when I first framed my house in 1991, and extending through every major and minor addition or remodel since, I have left notes, and often trinkets, within the framing and finishes.

Yesterday, Desiree and I used a black sharpie pen to write notes on the existing vinyl flooring in the laundry room.  Within a few days we hope to complete laying down new vinyl tile flooring overtop our notes.

In some distant or not so distant future, someone may find the notes.  They will also discover I did not scrub the floor particularly well before laying the tile.

My apologies to the future. 

  

Writing on the Floor

Tile Work in Progress

—Mitchell Hegman

Home Improvement

After watching a couple episodes in a series of documentaries exposing details about murderers and their brutal crimes, Desiree and I had a half-hour remaining before our normal bedtime.

As credits rolled on the final crime exposé, I asked Desiree, “Do you want to watch part of the next episode?”

“We have had a lot of murder,” she said.  “Maybe something else.”   

I quickly navigated away from the documentary series and headed toward the home improvement channels.  “Yeah, you’re right about that.  Let’s watch somebody organizing closets for a few minutes.”

—Mitchell Hegman

Things to Note When Driving in Montana

• At some point, expect to cross the Continental Divide.
• Winter may literally be around the next corner.
• Seeing the legs of a dead animal sticking up from the bed of a truck in front you is perfectly normal.
• Driving a rough here road means you need a four-wheel drive truck with 10 ply tires, a shovel, and a chainsaw in the back.
• A road range incident may involve a surly cow and an automobile on a stretch of “free range” highway.   
• Distance is a measurement of miles not hours of driving.
• Playing tag with cloud shadows roving along an open stretch of highway is an actual thing.
• Get used to the highway vanishing into a vast landscape.
• Pavement is overrated.

—Mitchell Hegman

Elderly Shoppers

Here is a real thing.  For my entire life, I have encountered elderly people browsing through goods at the various stores I frequent.  My reaction to seeing them has always been the same.  I think to myself: How sweet!  There is an elderly person out doing what they do.

The other day, upon seeing an elderly woman studying a display of oven cleaning supplies, I entertained my normal reaction.  Then, a few paces after whisking by her, a startling realization occurred to me.  The elderly woman may have been no more than five or six years older than me.

—Mitchell Hegman

Animal and Human Interactions

It probably isn’t a good idea to allow animals to dictate what goes on in your life. For example, planning your daily routine around a cat or a dog may severely limit your social interactions with humans.  That said, if you encounter a grizzly bear in the woods that insists you travel in the opposite direction you are hiking, doing so might be advisable if you plan an any future human interactions.   

—Mitchell Hegman

Mackie the Snowman

Weirdly enough, a bit of rain fell across the snow-covered prairie surrounding my house on Christmas morning.  On the plus side, the warming temperatures provided Desiree with a second opportunity to make a snowman.

“I want to make a big snowman this time,” she told me.

I nodded my agreement.  Every kid, no matter their age, needs at least one big snowman in their life.

Before long, we both found ourselves out in front of the house rolling giant snowballs and stacking them together to bring into existence Mackie the snowman.  A chickadee fluttered down into the branches of the tree no more than three feet from Desiree to watch her make a few finishing touches on Mackie's face.

Sporting pinecone buttons, a smile and eyes made of pea pods, and a long carrot nose, Mackie soon posed handsomely there beside the linden tree. 

I have posted three photographs of Desiree and Mackie.

—Mitchell Hegman

Christmas Morning Weather Report

Our gorgeous autumn weather ended abruptly at the end of October, ushering in the coldest November and December I recall.  I don’t think we reached above-freezing temperatures on more than a half-dozen occasions.  The lake froze two weeks earlier than normal and, here at my house, snow covered the ground for the entirety of November and December.

This last week proved particularly brutal.  A frigid Arctic impulse swept through Montana and froze over half of the country in place.  Locally, we saw temperatures reaching below -30°F.

I woke early this morning to righteously warm temperatures and melting snow.  My outdoor thermometer is displaying and a temperature tickling at 40° above.

Merry Christmas to us!

—Mitchell Hegman

Rocks Dancing

Desiree and I occasionally watch Freddy Dodge's Mine Rescue on the Discovery Channel. 

We don’t watch because we have been bitten by the “gold bug” and are hatching our own plans to strike it rich.  Instead, we are intrigued by the science employed while processing paydirt in placer mines.  I am in particular fascinated by the various conveyors, classifying contrivances, shaking tables, and so forth.

The other day, while watching and episode featuring rocks of various size bouncing down through a trommel wash plant, Desiree said this: “I think I have gold mining figured out.”

“Oh?”

“Yes.  Mining is all about rocks dancing.”

—Mitchell Hegman

Ice Shock

Desiree has thrived in her first bout with frigid Arctic weather. Early yesterday morning, the temperature dipped to something near -30°F at our house.  At the same time, several people I know recorded -38°F.

Things get a little weird when temperatures plummet below -20°F.  The lake ice regularly cries and occasionally makes depth charge sounds.  Packed snow squeaks and squeals when you walk or drive on it.  My house, with the bitter cold resting on its back, cracks and snaps deep within its bones.     

One of the more spectacular frigid weather spectacles involves pitching boiling-hot water into the outside air.  The water instantly vaporizes and then freezes, becoming something more akin to smoke.

Yesterday, while temperatures remained near -20°F, Desiree and I boiled some water in a pot, which, theoretically, brought it to a temperature of 212°F.  We then poured the water in a cup and trotted outside to video me (in slow-motion) throwing the water into the air above me.

Consider, that’s an astounding temperature difference of 232°.

The results did not disappoint.    I have posted one of several videos Desiree captured of me.

Ice Shock

—Mitchell Hegman

Approval to Keep a Unicorn

Every girl loves a unicorn.  Six-year-old Madeline also fancied she might keep one, if she managed to catch a unicorn.  Madeline's mother, by way of entertaining the little girl’s dreams, suggested keeping a pet unicorn might come down to getting government approval.

A fair statement, that.

Soon after Madeline’s mother proposed permission may be required to keep a unicorn, Madeline handed her mother a letter she had written to the Los Angeles County Department of Animal Care and Control.  “Will you help me mail this?" the girl asked her mother.

The letter read:

"Dear LA County, I would like your approval if I can have a unicorn in my backyard if I can find one. Please send me a letter in response."

Madeline’s mother posted the letter and the query swiftly made its way to the desk of director Marcia Mayeda.  Director Mayeda responded with a letter as requested.  The letter affirmed the department does, under certain conditions, issue a license for unicorns.  Those conditions include: polishing the unicorn's horn at least once a month with a soft cloth, feeding it watermelon (one of its favorite treats) at least once a week, covering it with only nontoxic and biodegradable sparkles, and giving it regular access to sunlight, moonbeams and rainbows.

Confident that Madeline would meet the department’s requirements, Mayeda also issued a "preapproved unicorn license" in the form of a certificate on pink paper with curlicue script, as well as a heart-shaped tag engraved with the words "permanent unicorn license."

And, because unicorns "are indeed very rare to find," the department also gifted Madeline a plush unicorn to keep her company during her search, as a token of its appreciation.

—Mitchell Hegman

Source: NPR

The Crossing

The doe mule deer follows the same route almost daily

Up Big Tire Gulch

Across the road on the right of the “private property” sign

Skirting along the eastern fence

Then down though the scattering of juniper and pine

 

The deer never walks up through the juniper and pine

Never crosses the road

To the left of the sign

 

On my good days

I try to imagine the doe taking another route

Maybe walking directly across the prairie

Or jumping the fence instead of walking alongside

 

But my sensibilities are not those of a deer

And I have my own problems to consider

For example, why do I always pull on my left shoe first?

 

—Mitchell Hegman

Not Counting Sheep

Somewhere in the restless night, I left my bed and plodded out to sleep on the sofa.  After twisting myself into a plush throw, I tried to force my way to sleep.

Nearly an hour slipped by.

Counting sheep doesn’t work for me.  Imagining a blank slate is impossible.

And then I heard something.

At my front door, I stationed a Presto electric parabolic heater.  Rather than broadcasting heat by way of a fan, a parabola-shaped reflective deflection plate on this heater radiates heat out in many directions.  The heater regularly clicks on and off.  When producing heat, the red-hot element sings a soft metallic song.

The heater hums, if you listen.

Lat night, answering the brittle song of sub-zero temperatures outside, the heater finally lulled me to sleep.

This morning I woke to the strangely satisfying click and hum of the heater. 

—Mitchell Hegman

Midday Report: December 18, 2022

We are enjoying unobstructed sunshine with an outside temperature of 1° Fahrenheit.  In four days, the shortest day of our northern year shall be upon us.  Illuminated by today’s sun, my solar photovoltaic system is presently producing something near three-thousand watts of power, which is greedily consumed by portable electric heaters directed at the exterior doors inside my house.

My island girl, Desiree, is napping on the sofa not far from a pair of nearly ripe tomatoes she has nurtured in our sunroom.  Elsewhere in the world, Russian conscripts in Ukraine sacrifice themselves for an unhinged leader who cares nothing about them.

Ye, the “artist” formerly known as Kanye West, for reasons continuing to evade me, remains out there splashing about in the news.

I am thrilled about the sunroom tomatoes and reasonably happy with my cellular phone service.

I woke quite early this morning, wondering if I should paint a wall in my house something other than white.  This is not a decision I intend to rush into.

—Mitchell Hegman

The Long Drive

I was reminded of you when I accidently melted an ink pen,

on the back burner of my stove.

I last used the pen to hurriedly jot down an important note,

now long forgotten.

 

Remembrance is the only disease I have successfully shed.

Except recalling you, my brother, when I melted the pen

and each time I drive the lakeshore where I last saw you.

 

Strange, how you fell and never stopped falling.

 

The trout bite arrived late this year.  The willows already yellowed

and the sky displaying a hollow blue.

But then, trout have always outsmarted me

or perhaps I was late in trying.

 

I drove home on the opposite shore this time

and I kept the sun in my eyes.

I didn’t glance at the waves shuffling white across the water.

I didn’t turn up the radio or crank the windows down

and I had forgotten how long the drive is.

 

—Mitchell Hegman

For Chuck Taylor

A Gorgeous Winter Day

I have been telling Desiree that some winter days are as beautiful as any spring or summer day.  On such days, fresh snow paints the landscape with a palette of only white and deep blue.  Fresh snow also softens and quiets the world from end to end.  And when the full sun ascends high enough, a strange, deep warmth finds you.

Yesterday, we experienced just such a stunning winter day.  The morning arrived blue but quickly whitened.  When the sun finally cleared the mountains to our east, sparkles danced across the untracked snow.

Once the sun stood full above us, Desiree and I stepped outside and cleared snow from the drive and danced around a little for ourselves.

Before Sunrise

Desiree in Full Sunlight

Desiree High-Kicking

—Mitchell Hegman

Something Epictetus Said

Epictetus was a Greek philosopher at the turn of of the 2nd century C.E.  He espoused Stoic ethics and was notable for consistency in his principled thinking and for effective methods of teaching. Epictetus vigorously promoted integrity, self-control, and the values of personal freedom.

Here are some things Epictetus said:

—We have two ears and one mouth so that we can listen twice as much as we speak.

—If thy brother wrongs thee, remember not so much his wrong-doing, but more than ever that he is thy brother.

—We should not moor a ship with one anchor, or our life with one hope.

—Mitchell Hegman

Something You Don’t Hear

Something near six inches of snow fell across the prairie yesterday morning.  As soon as the sun drew aside a few clouds, I launched myself out onto the drive with a snow shovel in hand.   Desiree, bundled in new winterwear, soon joined in with a second shovel.  She quickly scooped together a mound of snow alongside the walk to our front door.

“I am going to make a snow man here when I can,” she announced.

“Good idea,” I rejoined.

With Desiree’s help we quickly cleared snow from the concrete pads in front of the garage.  “Shoveling snow is fun,” she remarked while admiring our work.

That’s not something you hear every day in the north country.  Desiree is, as the old idiom goes, definitely the “marrying kind.”   

—Mitchell Hegman

Sons and Daughters

I googled the term anthem.  To qualify as an anthem, a musical composition must be rousing and possess a palpable uplifting power.  In my mind, the song I am sharing today has all of that.

The song is the work of an indie-americana-folk-rock trio named The American Spirit.

—Mitchell Hegman

Video Link:  https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=v2wQyeTr_jc

Thievery

Once every two years or so, I make a shopping trip to Walmart.  Yesterday, Desiree accompanied me on one such excursion.

Only a few days ago, I read an article about how Walmart is considering closing some stores due to escalating (if not devastating) rates of thievery.

Interesting.  I worked on a remodel of the local Walmart a bit over twenty years ago.  At that time, the security scheme in this regard revolved almost entirely around monitoring store employees (associates in Walmart-speak).

My reason for not regularly shopping at Walmart also has to do with this.  While working within the store, I was forced to open my lunchbox for inspection by a store employee every day as I walked out the door to go home.

I don’t steal and I don’t appreciate any doubt about that.  I prefer to shop where I am a trusted quantity.    

Yesterday, when Desiree and I landed at a checkout line, we found ourselves behind a somewhat scruffy fifty-something woman.  When the associate, a woman with beautiful black hair (which I always notice), scanned a tightly rolled blanket, something caught her attention.  Reaching inside the roll, she fished-out an aerosol can of air freshener hidden inside the blanket.  “Is this yours,” the associate asked the shopper.

“No,” responded the woman, appearing much less surprised than you might imagine. 

The associate, ever the professional, placed the can on the station counter nearby and continued checking items.

When we advanced to the register, I asked the clerk about the air freshener.   “The blanket felt heavy to me,” she responded.

“Thievery,” I said.  “That’s what that is.”

As the checker scanned our goods, she asked Desiree if she was Asian.

“I am from the Philippines,” Desiree told her.

“Me too!” the woman exclaimed.  Soon, she and Desiree exchanged conversation in rapid-fire Tagalog.  I stared at the can of air fresher on the nearby counter, wondering how the world has come to this.    

—Mitchell Hegman

Mint Toothpaste

Yesterday, while brushing my teeth, I managed to flick a speck of toothpaste into my right eye.  In doing so, I learned that minty-flavored toothpaste, while delivering freshness and dreams of unicorns via your mouth, feels like being stabbed with an ice pick when caught in your eye.

—Mitchell Hegman

Bad Day (Indicators)

How to Tell You are About to Have a Bad Day:

• When you arrive at work, your boss bounces up to you and exclaims: “I got a great idea last night while binge-watching Star Trek.  This is going to change everything!”
• Power to your house drops out the instant you reach out to turn on the coffee maker.
• Your ancestry search results suggest you may be the missing link in evolution.
• Your credit card company sends a text to inform you they froze your card following a two-thousand-dollar transaction in Guatemala immediately followed by a one-thousand-dollar purchase in Ohio.
• You wake with the song “Itsy Bitsy Teenie Weenie Yellow Polka Dot Bikini” stuck in your head.

—Mitchell Hegman

Christmas Returns to the Prairie

At one time (literally, one time), I tossed a few Christmas lights into some pine trees on the hill below my house.  That was almost thirty years ago and, weirdly enough, the time spent decorating and then removing the lights felt suspiciously like work.

We are talking ladders, fluffing around within the branches of the trees, and two full extension cord runs from my back deck.

As Christmas approached each year following, I thought to myself: Surely, my scattering of Christmas lights outdoors is only adding to the overall and ongoing thermal decay throughout the universe.

It might be a bad thing.

And it’s work.

Thanks to Desiree, Christmas has returned to the prairie.  “I want some Christmas lights,” she announced one day not long ago.

“Lights,” I repeated.

“Yes,” she said.  “In the trees out front.  White lights and colored lights.”

I appraised Desiree’s lovely face while considered the overall thermal decay of the universe.  “Lights,” I muttered again.

Within an hour we found ourselves flying off to town to fetch some lights proper.

Provided with a couple warm afternoons (anything near thirty above applies here), we flung strings of Christmas lights out in front and dragged extension cords out to meet them.

Last night, Desiree managed a few colorful photographs of our lights with her smartphone.  I am posting three of her pictures so you know what thermal decay looks like up close.

 

—Mitchell Hegman

An Island Girl on the Ice

Desiree’s introduction to winter continues.  Given a warmish afternoon (anything above freezing applies here), Desiree and I made a visit to the lakeshore.

From our house, we have been looking down upon ice on the surface of the lake for several weeks now.  For the first two weeks, patches of open water remained near the center of the lake on the arm north of us.  More recent impulses of cold weather froze the surface entirely.

Our visit to the lake was for the express purpose of walking on the frozen surface, something entirely new to Desiree. 

“Are you sure we won’t fall through?” Desiree asked before we stepped on the ice at the edge of the shore.

“I have it on good authority the ice is six inches deep,” I responded.   “And I have already seen four-wheelers scooting around down here.  We’ll be fine.”

Though nervous, Desiree followed me onto the ice.  “Just think, we were out here on a boat not that long ago,” I suggested.

We spent the next fifteen minutes padding out across the snow-swept surface.  The sun hung low but unobstructed to our west, forcing long shadows to mimic our every move to the east.

We played with our shadows and captured images with our smartphones.  Desiree made a short video.

Up next?  Maybe, downhill skiing.

 

A Long Shadow

Ice Dancing

—Mitchell Hegman

Driving

As Desiree and I sat on the sofa watching television, she drifted off to sleep and slumped against me.  Hoping she might enjoy a nap, I turned down the sound and remained as still as possible.  After about a half hour, she literally jerked awake and stared up at me, blinking her eyes rapidly.

“Where did you just come from?” I asked her.  Obviously, something in a dream had startled her awake.

“It was scary,” she answered.

“Yes, but where were you?”

“We were driving next to a cliff.  There was water deep water below us and you swerved toward the edge.”

“Sorry about that.  That’s so weird.  Remember the dream I told you about the other day?  I dreamed I fell asleep while driving across an elevated roadway and I you woke me by yelling, ‘You’re off the road already!’”

Desiree blinked at me.

“Maybe I need to stop driving in our dreams,” I offered.

—Mitchell Hegman

Useless Attributes

Following is a list of useless attributes:

• Wind-Resistant Chocolate
• Pleasantly Scented Truck Tires
• Threadless Screws
• Flavored Suppositories
• Gluten-Free Bowling Balls
• Disposable Trash Bags
• Freshness-Dated Pencils
• Faux Magnets
• Water-Soluble Roofing Materials

—Mitchell Hegman

Wallpaper

In preparation for an upcoming remodel of our master bathroom, Desiree took on the task of stripping the wallpaper from three walls there.  I determined early on I lacked the patience for removing the old paper.

Before tackling the paper, we sat together and watched a couple “How To” videos.  Following that, armed with the appropriate tools, Desiree went to work on the paper.  

After Desiree had been working on the paper for a couple hours, I walked back to the bathroom to check on her progress.  I found her picking at the paper on the wall with a pile of shredded paper at her feet.  She had stripped less than a quarter of one wall.  “Well,” I asked, “how is it going?”

“I want to go back to the Philippines,” she answered.

—Mitchell Hegman

My Room

As a boy, I kept a rather interesting room.  By interesting, I mean totally cluttered.  My sisters were totally repulsed by my room.

I was a busy boy and a collector of all things.  I fancied myself as a naturalist, chemist, geologist, archivist, and any otherist you might envision.  My room served as a showplace filled with every relic you can imagine and at least a dozen you can’t.  In my room you would find rocks, sticks, birds’ nests, a paper wasp nest, bones, old bottles, insect specimens, fragments of rusty metal, and all requisite toys.

I didn’t keep my room particularly orderly and I did a poor enough job at changing my bedding, one of my sisters was often charged with that task.  I recall my sister, Debbie, objecting one day after Mother told her she needed to change my sheets.  “Mitch’s room is disgusting,” she carped.  “And his bed is filled with sand and dirt!”

She was not wrong.

At this stage of my life, my room is orderly and free of clutter and collections.  My bedding is crisp.  But in certain corners of my den, you will still find rocks, bones, old bottles, and all manner of odds and ends.  The boy in me still thrives there and I am glad for it.  

—Mitchell Hegman

Five Interesting Facts About Montana

• Jordan, Montana is one of the remotest county seats in the United States. The nearest airport is 175 miles away while the nearest bus line is 85 miles away.
• Montana supports the largest population of golden eagles in the United States.
• In land mass area, Montana is slightly larger than Japan. It is also the largest landlocked U.S. state.
• Montana has more than a 100 mountain ranges in its western half.
• The town of Ekalaka in Montana is named after the daughter of the legendary Native American chief Sitting Bull.

—Mitchell Hegman

Source: https://thefactfile.org

Tumbled Color

Some years ago, while attending a college photography class (Go Cats!), I was assigned with the task of capturing a monochromatic image.  The idea of filling a color slide, I soon discovered, is both simple and difficult at the same time.

You can easily fill a frame with one color, but can you provide any drama while doing so?

In the time since, I have been instantly drawn to single colors made into any manner of striking display.

I have recently been shattering colored glass bottles and processing the fragments in a rock tumbler to smooth them down for Desiree’s crafts.  Yesterday, while washing a batch of glass freshly removed from the tumbler, I found a stunning monochromatic study.

Freshly Tumbled Glass

—Mitchell Hegman

Sunchimes

I woke at 3:00 yesterday morning with an idea.  The thought rolled around in my head making enough noise I failed to sleep again and started my day early.

“I have an idea,” I announced to Desiree as soon she awakened and found me in the living room.  “I am hoping you can make something for us.  I guess we can call them sunchimes.  I envisioned them in my head when I first woke this morning.  I may have seen then in my last dream…not really sure.”

Desiree, in addition to being agreeable, is a brilliant crafter.  For many years, she has made both decorative and useful items with sinamay fabric, a material woven from the processed stalks abaca trees, a type of banana native to the Philippines.  Upon moving here with me, she also started fabricating baubles and windchimes with fragments of tumbled glass.  In my waking vision, I saw a sunchime of tumbled glass dangling within a free-floating sinamay frame.  I explained this to Desiree.

After a quick trip to town to fetch needed supplies, Desiree produced a lovely sunchime prototype.

“That’s perfect,” I told Desiree when she held up her finished chime.  “I love it!  I think you are going to need to make a lot more of those.”

I have posted two photographs of Desiree’s first sunchime.

—Mitchell Hegman