sufferage

This is what democracy looks like.
Dozens of classic yellow post-it notes tracking votes or maybe pledges. A woman with a baby on her back ticks names off a sign in sheet. She writes, scratches, counts and writes again. One sticky on top another, lining the ones, tens, hundreds columns. She counts in her head, on her fingers. It's Obama 4:1 and the baby doesn't cry.

But what about experience? And all that was swept under the rug? It's the health care plan. Remember the economic boom, budget surplus? Who can beat McCain?We're ready for change. The end of the war. Pro choice. Tell me why.

My neighbors talk. Argue. Implore. I look for the 6 who held who held our precinct for last election cycle. Are they glad to have our company? Do they puzzle why we left them, alone, to determine the second WBush challenger? Do they fault us, blame themselves?

There'd be more conversation. Maybe answers and surely tears. But the elementary school is filled. Beyond capacity. In violation of fire codes. The line outside circles the block. We're running out of sign in sheets. There aren't enough chairs. The babies will grow tired and the sticky won't hold my vote to the clip board forever. We've exceeded the space allocated our democracy. After pledging the flag, naming a candidate, and possibly making a donation to the party, we are welcome to leave.

I drag my feet. It's a flawed system of broken pencils and too few volunteers. A charming, near hypnotic chaos with errors more personal, more public, more likely to be corrected, than those of the machines,.

(I suppose lack of timeliness is just one of the issues preventing my successful career in journalism. Happy Valentine's Day!)

buddy-up

Polls in all but Alaska were closed Super Tuesday when I over overheard Aslin on the phone with my mom.

"I think they should buddy-up."

She went on with her wise words, no doubt exciting my mom with her political insight on the potential of a Clinton/Obama, Obama/Clinton ticket.

Ukiah's holding judgment, unsure who might make the better leader, but assuring all that Obama is an impressive speaker. Aslin chimes in that she shook his hand.

We'll take them to caucus with us today. I'll excuse myself a little early and head for an equally lively event, the bride wrangler dress summit.

It's no help with the dress questions, but the fine folks at Fuse walk you right through the caucus process. Thanks to the homeschool folks for continuing to share great resources.

that's not "church"

(story under construction)

I hate ABC

It wasn't too much of a surprise when they didn't cover the Women's World Cup. But they didn't even pretend, didn't list games on their schedule and then opt to air ignorant blowhard Fred Thompson instead. But this morning, they made changes to their scheduling line-up, pushing the MLS championship to ESPN 2.

Who knew my disgust with corporate media could reach new heights?

been there, done that, would do it all again

This incomplete list of trip favorites use to live in the side bar. She graciously moved to a post knowing that no matter how painful, it's time for the Owlhouse to move forward.

Cape Disappointment- Long Beach Peninsula, WA

Saturday Market- Eugene, OR

Crater Lake, Oregon

Barack Obama, 2008

Cowboy Poets- Elko, NV

Gilgal Sculpture Garden- SLC, Utah

Lazy Lizard- Moab, Utah

Mesa Verde, Colorado

Carver Brewing- Durango, CO

Taos Pueblo, NM

Georgia O'Keeffe Museum- Santa Fe, NM

White Sands, NM

Chiricahua Mts, AZ

Bisbee- Bisbee, AZ

Desert Museum - Tucson, AZ

Sonora Co-housing - Tucson, AZ

Sam's Family Spa -Desert Hot Springs, CA

Ghetty Museum - Los Angles, CA

Camp Ocean Pines - Cambria, CA

Pipestone Vineyards - Paso Robles, CA

Sacramento Valley School - Sacramento, CA

Guemes Island - Washington

Lake Okanagan - Kelowna, British Columbia

Lake Louise - Banff, British Columbia

Kaslo- Kaslo, British Columbia

Kamloops Farmer's Market - Kamloops, British Columbia

Touchstone Farm - Mayerthorpe, Alberta

Gaetz Lake Sanctuary- Red Deer, Alberta

Local Currancy - Calgary, Alberta

Tyrrell Dinosaur Museum - Drumheller (Badlands), Alberta

Glacier National Park - Montana

Coeur d'Alene Library - Idaho

Grand Coulee Dam -Coulee, WA

communication

It's routine. "Double-tall americano, please." Barista follow-up questions can go one of two ways- room for cream? or so, coffee with hot water? The kids at Cowboy Joe know their way around the espresso machine. A local art show, photos of rodeo highlights and downfalls, cattle in the basin complete the western feel. Hang your jacket on the horseshoe rack, the patio out back is glowing warm before 9am.




Along Idaho St., the visitor center at Sherman's Station was closed. The windows of the school were cloudy, but we could see through a crack in the creamery door. I called it the livery, but Aslin wondered why a farm would have a library. Down the road at the NE Nevada Museum, also closed, outdoor exhibits gave clear definitions of stage coaches and mud coaches. An original Pony Express cabin was brought to the property a decade ago. The job announcement stated clearly that "young, skinny, wiry" riders, preferably orphans, could earn $25/week if they'd risk their lives daily as riders on the path from Missouri to California.

At the park, a church group held a bingo fundraiser. We rushed the old-school swing-set. Long chains suspended from a steel frame, primary colors chipping away. A toddler in church clothes ran through the puddle surrounding the merry-go-round. "Mom....mom..." Aslin didn't finish, didn't need to. The flop and cry said it all. Getting tricky on the swings, she somehow flipped forward only to land backward- thankfully clearing the cement buffer that would never meet today's playground codes.

A flyered telephone pole told us of the event. We decided Oregon could wait, and stuck around another day to hear what Barack Obama had to say to the rural communities. Aslin found her breath and we rested before heading to the convention center.


Aslin- "I like. I'm never gonna wash my hand again because he shook it. He said about health care that everyone should have it. He said something about the war not really solving anything. People mostly, I think they really like him and appreciate and admire the way he thinks and makes decisions. He's good at doing speechs and answering questions- seems kind, I was listening and I know that he he is. Well, in my opinion. I like him."




Ukiah- "It seems like he went out of his way to go to a relatively small town- seems like most people would skip that I guess. But it seems important to visit different parts of the country.

He said we spent 200 something million a day in Iraq, but we could use that money on different things- like special education and health care. Somebody asked how he's going to improve medicare. He said that it doesn't make any sense for people who make a billion, or even a million dollars to pay half as much tax as everybody else. There is money for health care and we should work more on disease prevention.

He said that thing about Volvo driving, latte drinking liberals. Something about mining, I don't remember. I thought he totally did not look 35, he looked younger- or maybe it's just because George Bush looks like he's 200. He seemed really smart, supported a lot of things I would support. I think another funny thing he said is that sometimes he thinks people are here because he's so wonderful- but his wife reminds him that not it. They care about the issues.

We had to wait 70 minutes, but it was worth it. I thought the people in front of me were obnoxious- the woman had a big hair-do and was taking a lot of pictures."


The local democrats had their work cut out for them. Overhearing the network of volunteers and rural liberals, the turn out was much larger than expected. Which is encouraging. The audience heard soundbites on all the key domestic issues. Meaningful soundbites. An understanding of immigration and interest to continue learning about water rights and mining. "If Canada were paying $100/hr, we'd be headed to that border." "I haven't signed onto the ___ mining bill, but the law dates to 1872, it probably needs some updates."

Senator Obama wants to bring "common sense and fact" to the White House, to be rid of ideology. He noted that individual citizens don't have federal lobbyists and that the in No Child Left Behind, the "money's been left behind." It was a town hall style meeting, and Obama was comfortable talking to the people. The conversation centered on domestic issues- education, health care, environment, jobs, with the Senator sounding interested and competent on all fronts.

I'd have preferred if he'd closed with his acknowledgement that "change takes time." That as president, he "can't suddenly make everybody's life better, automatically." That we have a mutual responsibility to each other and that we have to overcome our cynicism. "I'll be a president who believes in the constitution." But no. The final words were along the lines that "no president can guarantee that there won't be a need for war." I'm reminding myself of his emphatic belief that "this war should not have been authorized, should not have been waged." Trying to comfort myself with my belief in his 90 minutes of advocacy for early childhood education, wind power, labor unions, national health care, civil liberties and diplomacy. The Senator knows we have to talk and listen to one another, communicate. "In democracy, we have to compromise." I know he's right, I'm just tired, disgusted with what now passes as compromise.

the best part of waking up

is the sound of rain filtering through the deck floor and splashing to the patio outside my window. Real rain. Not the warm drops that evaporate as soon as the sun considers dismissing the clouds. Real rain. Enough to wash the scent of heat from the asphalt and form pools in the joints where tree branches meet their trunks. Two hours of real rain.

"Isn't it great?!" the rest of us nod in agreement with Ukaih, carry the camera to the neighbor's garden and feel a little home-sick.


It's been a double apricot season for us- Tucson in May and here in Orem a couple weeks ago. If we're lucky, we'll have peaches before our Saturday departure. Unless of course the city's chemical defense against the Japanese beetles has poisoned the fruit. Add to the list...

• Advising against vegetable gardening until 2010 because pesticide use has contaminated soil and ground water while endangering beneficial insects - crazy

• Horticulture and gardening programs for inmates and their communities- not crazy

in the dark

A triathlete, photochoreographer and Gillian Welsh share a common bond. Each was introduced to a group of teens as part of the Orem Public Library's Teen Read Hidden Treasure program. Ukiah and Aslin agree, the triathlete was, um, a really, like, um, bad, kind of like, um, not good public speaker. Aside from that, we've been really impressed with the library. The library's four wings are set over a green courtyard, with an enclosed bridge joining A/B with C/D. There's a stage for readings and a magical glass window along the west wall. An open design highlights the geometric steel beam architecture. Shelved in the 941.5s- a few Disney and Calvin and Hobbes books. No manga. No librarians familiar with manga. It's a first in the dozens of libraries we've visited. Thoughtfully confused, Ukiah settled in with a Tin Tin collection.






Across 7 continually busy lanes of traffic, the natural foods store is not an easy walk from the library. Tofu dogs, fruit, snacks and kombucha. We carried our short list into a darkened store. Is this a first time power-outage at Harvest Fresh, or just another example of the deficient management/organization we've recognized at every visit to the store. It's a 100 degrees out, way too hot for kick-ball, and no one's moving to insulate the open freezers. Brad stressed, knowing the speciality cheese has about a 20 minute life span in the warmer temperature. He fights the urge to find cardboard and cover the meat cooler and we all wonder why five employees, management included, stand chatting about chocolate in the supplement section. At the register, the cashier asks us the prices of each item.
Cookies- $3.23; Nectarines- $.99/pound, Grapefruit- 2/$1, Hot Dog Buns- $2.69. We run up and down the isles, the floor staff thinks about sweeping. No one greets customers at the door with a pen and paper and request that they record prices.
"$28.63. Does that sound right to you, for what you bought?" Our cashier works with a little calculator and apologizes for the lack of receipt. "If you have any problems with what you buy... I don't know. Bring it back maybe."
We did get a complimentary Utah Truffle on our way out the door. Milk chocolate mint.

Good call on the plan to grill, power's out at the house too. Not on scale with New York's aging infrastructure, but it seems a sub-surface explosion is to blame here too.

The drive to a BYU men's soccer game put us back in air conditioned comfort. Less comfortable were the Cascade Surge who ran a defense-only game from the kick-off. I'm no fan of a 2-3-5 line-up, and it clearly wasn't working for the Salem, Oregon team. The Cougars scored early, ensuring my support of the visiting underdog. In front of me, the family of a home-town mid-fielder adhered to the University standard as stated before the game. "Sportsmanship" on the part of the fans kept foul language out of the stands, replaced by yells of "What the Dickens?" and "Oh my Goodness." Until a particularly unfavorable call by the Hispanic referee. "Are you even watching, Carlos?!" And from across the stands, "Go back to where you came from." I put my powerful evil eye to work and am kicking myself for not letting my well-practiced wicked words answer the dim-witted "what?" of the fan below me. Final score, 2-0 and no moral victory.


After an hour recapping game highlights and processing the ignorance of certain fans, we joined the monster crowd at Barnes and Noble. A spot-on Professor Snape headed the line, powered face looking fabulously sallow after untold hours of waiting. Past the lightening scared-foreheads, in and out of wand range, we headed round to the back of the building with the rest of the gold wrist-banded "PP"-ers. Troops of fans read, snacked and sought victory in impromptu Potter-trivia challenges. By a quarter after midnight, the first books made their way around to us at the end of the line. The "I'm gonna read you all the last page...." joke got old but didn't end, even with line-waiting friends told the pranksters to "stop being gay." Bystanders observations that Walmart had no line did little to convince the B-and-N crowd to abandon the company of their fellow fans. Tortured not by care of Harry's final Hogwarts days but by the ambiance of sitting in the dark by a dumpster, the kids took turns walking to the front, reporting on those who now held the book.
"An old lady was too busy laughing to worry about trapping me between her and a moving truck..."
1:25am and Lia had the Deathly Hallows in hand.

Across the parking lot, readers lined up at Sconecutters 24-hour "scones and fries" drive-thru. I think we'll make strawberry scones this weekend.

vortex cannon

Mahonri Young, 1877-1957, sculpted the likeness of Brigham Young based solely on his mother's description. Stories, not photographs or sketches, informed his vision of the grandfather who died the year he was born. A "social realist," Mahonri's art often depicted common laborers, the less noble characters of society. Breaking with such attachment to the value of realism, the BYU powers that be altered Mahonri's portrayal of Brigham Young. After years of advocating against beards and the hippie culture/ideals they represented, in 1969 BYU president Wilkinson moved toward strict dress and grooming codes as part of the university's Honor Code system. By 1971, failure to cut hair or shave could result in suspension with out notice. So, of course, the statue of Mr. Young had to be converted.
(note chisel marks under the chin)

Our chauffeured tour of the BYU campus also included drive-bys of the historic library and new fitness facility.




The Eyring science building has an indoor courtyard that doubles as a mini-science center, with hands-on activities from a number of fields. Light and prism experiments are difficult to see for the under 5-foot crowd, but the space density investigation is easily accessible. Except that it is impossible to lift the 4-inch round of neutron star. After reaching for a hologram dollar and toying with the movement of cat-tails in the wind, the kids discovered the vortex cannon. Angled just so, a well placed shot can reach an unsuspecting parent 100 yards away.

A quick trip through the BYU Museum of Art, where an exhibit of European ballet advertisements and portraits compared divas over generations, was followed by inspection of a reflection pond and eventually, a trip to the Creamery. University agriculture and food science programs team-up to produce a few signature flavors, including the carbonated "sparkle" ice cream.

Finally, the Bean Museum. Home to "Shasta" the liger born at Salt Lake's Hogle Zoo in 1948, a tiny two headed snake and a 22,000 specimen mammal collection. Donald Cox, proud member of the Safari Club, seems to be responsible for most of the wildlife collection , prompting the following conversation:

early 20's guy- "Nice, donated after illegal hunting, I'm sure."

early 20's girl- "Yeah, but a lot are just deer, they reproduce really often."

guy- "Rinos don't."

girl- "That's just what we think because we don't see them every day. But they're not endangered or anything. Africa's a pretty big country, I'm sure they're fine."

The Museum is free and open to the public. We didn't view many of the two-million insects on display, but were most taken with the long-neck Gerenuk of east-Africa, the dozens of tiny Asian and African deer, the long-haired Takin of China and the Alaskan Moose.

a list

"How is your visit...
Do you think we're all crazy then?"

The neighbor wasn't referencing the "Free Sno-cone" stand her son had set up in the driveway. (In this weather, we all know icy treats are worth a dollar. 50-cents, minimum.) Five years she's been in Utah and her family won't visit. It's not just the expense of traveling from Europe, it's the religion. And she asked again, "So, what do you think of us Mormons, we're not so nuts are we?"

A series of impressions, noticeably void of philosophy or theology.

• easily accessible neighborhood parks where soccer and basketballs wait for use by all- not crazy

• green lawns in the desert, woman arrested for not watering- crazy

• pancake breakfast in the park- not crazy

• fireworks/rockets for sale in grocery store, no age requirement- crazy

• beautiful city pools and water parks- not crazy

• lack of sidewalks and coffee shops- crazy

• extensive library offerings including weekday programs for teens- not crazy

Turns out it's a community much like most others.
Green apple sno-cones are better than expected too. And the mountains are stunning.

$76 billion

is up for grabs in this year's Farm Bill.

That's 76 billion- with a "B"

So even if we grant Charles Schwab a half-million for his private duck-hunting club "rice farm" and pay Scottie Pippen and Ken Lay to manage their "conservation lands," there should be plenty left to invest in sustainable farming methods and operations.


As much as I'd like to write about the importance of impeaching our criminal vice president, this week I'm banging my head on the wall for a different cause.

This past year, we Owlhouse-ians picked green beans in the freezing rains, evil eyed carrot-eating deer, harvested thousands of pounds of potatoes, planted cucumber seeds to the second knuckle and sheltered berries from sun and storm. The farmers we worked with are land stewards, cultural historians, nutritionists, inventors, musicians, educators and healers. Not to mention they're responsible for some of the best food we've ever eaten. Chews Wise has a terrific post outlining the proposed investment in organic farming. You don't have to have goat-milking experience to recognize the importance of federal support for organic practices.


At Mulch Blog, The Environmental Working Group will keep you up to date. Organic Farming Research Foundation has everything else you need to know.

So sign the petition already.

versions of history

The Hohokum, Mogollon, and Anasazi. Before our time in the southwest, we weren't familiar with these ancestral people. Traveling through Arizona, New Mexico and Colorado, we've collected the stories told by art books, park rangers, catholic priests, native elders, anthropologists, historians and hippies. It's an incomplete education. Some claim the disappearance of the ancients. That drought or depleted resources or war lead to their demise. That by about 1300, the basketmakers and potters and farmers and hunters who migrated through and eventually settled the area, vanished.





Wait. Not true. They moved south, away from agriculture in a return to hunting and gathering. There were no Anasazi anyway. That's a Navajo word- something akin to "others" or "enemy". Why should people who showed up just before the Spanish name the Puebloan ancestors? Puebloan? Those are Hopi and Zuni ancestors, not just Puebloan.



The cliff dwellers are some of "the most peaceful people ever to walk the earth." But there is some evidence of cannibalism. And, for the record, they're "alcove communities" not cliff dwellings.

The carvings along Petroglyph Trail are interpreted as a linear story, the histories of the people who made them is anything but.


For now, the certainties tell us that approximately 800 years ago, some 50,000 people lived in the greater 4-Corners area. Climate, threat, advancing architectural skills, the Creator- something- led them to take residence in the alcove beneath the mesas.

Some lived in single family units while others lived in communities with streets and 100+ rooms.

The round, sunken kiva structures were ceremonial, not typical family units.

Windows and doors were aligned to allow for the light of specific stars or planets.

Planted above the cliffs, dry farmed (non-irrigated) corn, beans and squash comprised 70% of the food sources with 15% gathered and the rest hunted.









Water from the mesa top took 20-30 years to filter through layers of canyon sandstone, eventually delivering up to 6 gallons/minute to alcove seep springs.







There are about 600 dwellings at Mesa Verde. We had access to three, saw more across the canyons and are awed by the presence of the rest. The sites have been protected by the federal government for 101 years. Not long enough to stop the Swedish archaeologist who exported dozens of artifacts or locals who used dynamite to remove walls blocking their access to pottery. There's speculation that ranchers may have pulled juniper beams from the roofs, for firewood.


For all the unknowns, Mesa Verde remains spectacular. Grounding.

"Best hike ever!"

Aslin's words. "You know I'm usually complaining by this far into a hike."


The rest of us confirm on both counts, Echo Canyon in the Chiricahua Mts is possibly the greatest day (morning) hike ever and she usually is complaining by the end of the second mile.


Before the hike details, you should know that we didn't make it out of Tucson with out one final visit with our mechanic, the moonlight voice of Liberty Radio. Marvel of the modern world, air conditioning, kept us cool the the Tucson city limit. I graciously thanked and declined the border patrol agent's (quicker to the scene than highway patrol) offer of water. Freedom fighter Mike was rock solid confident that the van wasn't actually overheating, that it was safe to drive into the shop. We were on the road again before my panic/despair mode even kicked in.

Eventually we made it to the campground- 24 sites in a wilderness area of 11,985 acres. Heading into Memorial Day Weekend, we failed our good intentions to arrive early, but still managed to find a beautiful (though excessively bug-filled) site.






From our base at Bonita Creek, dry except for a few hours a year, we hiked through the alligator junipers along a trail built by Franklin D. Roosevelt's Tree Army. The Civilian Conservation Corp's long abandon bake ovens stand alone at the edge of a meadow. Grateful for a distraction from blood hungry mosquitoes, we searched the tree canopy for the power-tool buzzing cicada. A mile away, at Faraway Ranch, we heard stories of Swedish immigrants and Buffalo soldiers.

The first sold fraudulent stories of battles with the Apache to guests looking for authentic an cowboy experience. The later, after securing watering holes from Apache who never attacked, built a 10-foot monument to President Garfield, who as a senator, worked to secure equal pay for African-American soldiers.











Reacquainted with our tent, we managed our earliest pack ever. Packed, fed and on the road to the trial head at 8:51.

Past the Sea Captain and China boy, Echo Canyon brings us up close and personal to formations whose names have not been published.

"It's like the rocks got too hot, they made bubbles and then, pop," Aslin.

Just past Ukiah's "pancakes,"

through the keyhole, the canyon floor comes into view.

Sure, it's called a "canyon" hike, but the view from Massai point doesn't predict the bird songs and the oak forcing it's way up from a boulder.

A friend suggested that the rock formations of the Chiricahua's rival those of the Grand Canyon. A don't have that point of comparison, but as Ukaih said, "amazingly beautious."