In Silence and Light

I sit this morning in silence and light; my first cup of coffee in hand.  My thoughts, today, are with a man and a woman.  Each of them, the parent of dear friends.  Each accepted me into their own family long ago and made my life better for that.  As I grew older, the parents became my friends.

I reflect, this morning, on the years of kitchen table conversations with these extra parents, the assisted mechanical repairs, the shared Christmas eves, the hours fishing together from the shores of Hauser Lake, the whole arc of time that brought all of us to this silent morning.  I think of how fortunate I was to have two more families.

My two friends have now reached their mid-eighties.  The sweet arc of time that provided all of us with beautiful sunset drives, and trout leaping wholesale from the nearby waters, and brought us the children of children—that same arc of time has slowly, but certainly, crushed the bodies of my friends.  My old friends are now slow and bent.  Most days pass them by entirely.

From my window, I see vesper sparrows swimming up into the sky from the sagebrush.  A slight breeze has begun to lift and examine the leaves of my linden tree.  The air is filled with the newest light.

And yet, this morning, I feel only the weight of time.

--Mitchell Hegman

Eating a Flower

I ate a glacier lily yesterday.  Honestly, I feel guilty about eating the lily because they are so beautiful.  The glacier lily tasted surprisingly delicious.

Glacier lilies have an extensive range in the Rocky Mountains.  They flourish in moist, rich alpine settings beginning in Alberta, Canada, and extending all the way down through Colorado.  Glacier lilies are among the first flowers to emerge in the spring.  I have seen them blooming at the edge of melting snowbanks.

Several thriving patches of glacier lilies appear each spring near my cabin.  Yesterday, while at my cabin burning some scrap lumber, I dug up and ate the corm (the equivalent of a bulb) from a glacier lily.  The corms are fragile and grow deep.  I had to work down through six inches of tangled grass, kinnikinnick roots, and pine tree roots to free the corm.

After I washed the corm and peeled away the outer layers—just as you do with an onion—I nipped a taste.  Starchy like a potato.  Crisp.  Verging on sweet.  That girl and my daughter also took a bite and liked the taste.

“I think it tastes like jicama,” my daughter remarked.

“Exactly so,” I said.

I consulted one of my flower books, Plants of the Rocky Mountains, upon returning home.  The book mentioned that many of the various Rocky Mountain tribes used the glacier lily as a food source.  The book also noted that eating too many of the corms can cause vomiting.  As most current books about flowers, Plants of the Rocky Mountains, suggests that gathering and eating glacier lilies is not a good practice because doing so can greatly reduce and endanger the populations in some areas.

Posted are two pictures of glacier lilies I snapped yesterday.

  --Mitchell Hegman

My Giant Sun Flower (Redux)

The year before we constructed our house, my wife and I set stakes in the earth (in the exact footprint of our future home) at the site where we planned to build.  We then monitored how the sun path seasonally changed relative to the orientation of our house.  We wanted to assure that the placement of the house was pleasing to our eye, but, at the same time, we tried to face the house so that the winter sun would shine in through the front windows and the summer sun would slide overhead without introducing extra heat in through the windows.

We achieved just that.

When engineering my solar array, I tried to maximize the harvest of sunlight.   Equally as important, I wanted an array that “felt” more organic than a typical array.  That’s how I ended up welding arms on the main pole.

I wanted a flower.

About two months ago, I removed the modules from the arms and altered the orientation of the arm modules to increase the harvest of sunlight.  The alterations required a bit of rewiring and the cutting and welding of the rigid pipe on both arms.  I am pleased with the results.  This morning, I went out and took a photograph of early sunlight finding the “sunrise” arm.  As the sun climbs, the main array and the “sunset” arm will begin to experience full irradiation.

During the summer months the array still suffers from a bit of self-shading where the main array shades (and limits power production) on the arms.  During the winter months, as the sun path shifts to the South, the shading is not such an issue.

--Mitchell Hegman

Boulder Hot Springs

Boulder Hot Springs was the only public place to which I recall my parents ever taking my entire family when I was a young boy.  At the time, the establishment was called the Diamond S Ranchotel.  We went there for the occasional Saturday smorgasbord.  Back then, the establishment employed several people with physical and learning disabilities from the nearby facility most kids simply called the Institution.  In later years the Institution became the Montana Developmental Center.  Just a few weeks ago, our present governor signed a bill that will lead to the Development Center’s closing.  Those people with physical disabilities left an indelible impression on me.  I still recall a physically crumpled man struggling to hand bottles of pop with his wrists because his hands were twisted and immobile.

  

On our way back home from the Gallatin Valley the other day, that girl and I stopped in to check out Boulder Hot Springs.  A few plaques are affixed to the buildings to inform visitors of the history of the place.  That girl was impressed with the old buildings.  Upon returning home, I visited www.boulderhotsprings.com to read more about the times gone by.

Boulder Hot Springs is located in narrow valley among the Elkhorn Mountains.  Long ago, according to the website, the “First People” named the place Peace Valley.  They considered the valley a place of healing, gathering, and celebration.  A prospector named James E. Riley constructed the first buildings at the hot springs in 1863.  The buildings housed a saloon and a bathhouse.  In 1881, just prior to his death from smallpox, Riley expanded the facilities and started construction of a hotel.  Over the next few years, the property went through several more owners and several expansions and developments of the hot spring pools.

In 1909 the property was purchased by Butte banker and miner James A. Murray.  Murray, a millionaire, conducted lavish renovations.  He refashioned the exterior of the hotel in the California Mission Arts and Crafts’ style and redecorated much of the interior.  In the time since, more owners have come and gone.  The hotel has been visited by three U.S. presidents: Teddy Roosevelt, Warren Harding, and Franklin Delano Roosevelt.

At present, Boulder Hot Springs is undergoing yet another, more gradually staged renovation.  I have posted a couple of photographs I captured with my twice-as-smarter-than-me-phone.  A web search of “The Diamond S. Ranchotel” will provide you with more photographs and stories of the old place.

       --Mitchell Hegman

For a Visit:  http://www.boulderhotsprings.com

Dog Report

Took daughter’s city dog for a walk in the country.  Dog encountered first pile of deer poop.  Dog ate deer poop.  End of report.

--Mitchell Hegman 

My Coffee Cup

Here at home, I always drink coffee from the same cup.  The cup is forest green and has a brown bear and “Montana” embossed on the side that faces me as I drink.  I think I purchased the cup at Mammoth in Yellowstone Park about ten years ago.  My habit for using the same cup is so powerful, I will clean it for use if I find it with other unwashed strays in my kitchen sink in the morning—no matter how many other clean cups are sitting in the kitchen cabinet.

The odd aspect of my addiction to my coffee cup is the modest fact that the cup really sucks.  The cup is unduly heavy.  The handle is oversized and feels awkward in my hand.  I have noticed, over the years, that my cup is never chosen by anyone else if they peer into the cupboard and see it there with the others.

Why do I use the green cup?  Am I subconsciously punishing myself for squashing a billion ants on my childhood sidewalks?  Does the cup leach just a trace of sweet addicting poison into each cup of coffee I drink?   Does the cup make me look sexy by comparison?  Am I being controlled by aliens from an unseen planet?  Does this have anything to do with that time I hit myself in the head with a hammer?

While you are thinking about this, I need to go wash my coffee cup.  My coffee has finished evolving in the kitchen.

Have you ever noticed how brewing coffee sounds like voices telling you things?  

--Mitchell Hegman

Man versus Screen Door

That girl and I drove down to meet my daughter and her friend Jo in the Gallatin Valley.  My daughter is relocating to San Francisco after a few years in New York City.  She is swinging up through Montana on her drive across the U.S.  The four of us had a dinner together and overnighted at the Gallatin River Lodge.  The lodge is only sixteen years old and is very secluded.  Our dinner was excellent!  I really like the lodge with the notable exception of the screen door.

The door is an over-achiever.  If you want to exit, you pretty much need to kick its ass before you can squeeze through.  I think the screen door may be the scantily clad first cousin to a bank vault door.  The door is both hard to push open (pushing around a refrigerator hard) and quick to close down on you; something akin to a giant clam.

For some reason, the door has automatic closers on both the bottom and the top.  I have posted a picture of the door.   I captured the image with my twice-as-smarter-than-me-phone.  I locked the door open for safety while taking the photograph.  If I manage to squeeze back out the door along with my belongings when I leave later today, I will continue posting blogs.  If not, please send someone with the jaws-of-life to room 202.

 

--Mitchell Hegman