Saturday, January 11, 2014

Our House Part 1

This is my house. Our house. Me, wife, and dog.

It's nothing special, really. It's not very big, and not much work had been done to it over the last forty years when we bought it. We would have done more work but we ran out of money and have to put stuff off for a while. For now, we're grateful it passed Sewer Scope 101, even though it got a D in Advanced Furnace.

But still. It's kind of cute and cozy. Your house is kind of a two-dimensional diorama of you, with the inside showing the inside you and the outside showing the outside you, and revealing that it's not what you have that matters, it's what you are. 

A secret revealed? Who knows these things?

I know the title says "Part 1," which pretty much says there will be a Part 2. Don't bet on it. It all depends on my disposition, which isn't predictable, and my reviews, which are.

Jesus was also a Capricorn
We may live in the house for now, but what's more important is that the house lives in its own habitat, which means we get to live in the house's habitat, too. It sits just off the shoreline of a pond (the neighbors huffily call it a lake, which says something about them). The Rocky Mountains make a consonant-shaped horizon above the far edge of the pond aka lake, with the 14,000 foot Mt. Evans the snow-capped star attraction. Mountain goats live on Mt. Evans, with our house as their view as long as they get in the right spot and care to look.
The long and short of it--well, the long of it, anyway--is that the threat of Pt. 2 notwithstanding, our house's habitat is pretty cool. For instance, this path:
Who wouldn't want to walk down this?
It's just off our front porch and takes you around the pond aka lake, on the wild side, as opposed to the blacktop trail on the other shoreline--the one the coyotes use to steal the community's cats.

The best part, though, might be the sky. I'm partial to night skies. I love the way the clouds, sun, pond aka lake and horizon combine into infinite pastiches of monochromes nuanced with color. It's as though some mythic fire were kindled in the sky.
This really happened last fall


For reasons unknown, it began to smolder and ignite the clouds.

What did the goat say?

Then, in December, we spotted Santa arriving early, or so we thought. Some neighbors whom we don't like (they don't like us, either) claimed it was Jesus being reborn. It wasn't December 25, so the dispute was technically inconclusive. However, presents appeared under our tree on Christmas morning. If Jesus showed up, he was put in 90-day lockdown. We should presumably know something in March.
Maybe Elijah's chariot?

In early January, weather forces did not opt for bipartisanship. Snow and  Dry Cold Front locked horns for day on end. At first, it looked like this:

Before night fell, they really got into it.

And it still isn't resolved, which is pretty much how I feel about just about everything.