Portland's Chinese Garden

We're on a long trip right now and stopped in the Portland area to see our friends Roland and Marie. I'd heard about the beautiful Chinese garden in the city, so Marie, Greg, and I visited it on Sunday. It's inspired by the gardens in Suzhou, a city in China famous for its gardens, and built by Chinese artists and artisans.
Being in the garden is like visiting old China, when wealthy and prominant families had beautiful gardens integrated into their homes. Each area of the garden has its own beautifully designed pavement, inlaid with pebbles and tiles. Each has its own theme--the scents of flowers, for example. There's a beautiful pond in the center, with goldfish and lily pads and clumps of reeds along the edges. Walls separating the different areas have artfully place decorated openings that show the neighboring area, giving a sense of space. Even though the garden occupies just a block right in the downtown, it feels like its own peaceful world of beauty, meant for relaxation and meditation.
The leaves of a ginko tree, one of the oldest species of tree on Earth, contrast with the glass-walled modern building just outside the garden. But even though the building is there, the feeling of the garden is stronger, and the building seems more like an optical illusion than something real.

Global Warming or Climate Change?

It's October 9, and I took this photo in the afternoon from my doorstep in Montana. Overnight lows for the next 2 or 3 nights are projected as in the single digits. Brrrrr!!!! Now Montana is in the north, but we "normally" don't get snow until Halloween, and the record lows for this time of year hover around 20 degrees. So, records are getting shattered all over the place around here these days.

This is the kind of event naysayers grasp upon so they can say, "See? How can you say we're having global warming? We're having record cold!"  Such folks have a basic misunderstanding about terminology. The moniker "Global Warming" is indeed meant to apply globally--the average temperatures on the planet are gradually creeping up.  This doesn't mean that the temperature on any given day in any particular place will be higher than it was in the past, far from it.

"Far from it" is a reason for using the term "Climate Change" rather than "global warming."  Our climates are changing, and part of that change is differences in how weather systems perform.  For example, as things warm up in general, not only are warm storms like hurricanes likely to become stronger, cold storms like blizzards are also likely to intensify.  As has happened this week, arctic systems may extend further south than in the past, resulting in brief record low temperatures.  The climate is becoming destabilized in ways that will continue to surprise us as the 21st century progresses.

I have lived here for 36 years, and during that time, what's "normal" has changed significantly.  The first bad year for forest fires I experienced was in 1988, then not again until 2000.  Since then, all but 2 or 3 years have experienced multiple forest fires in our area, including one that forced us to evacuate our home, pictured here as it hurried towards us.  Spring comes earlier now,  followed by a warmer, drier, longer summer, all of which increases the chance for fires to take hold and rage.  Now, the authorities tell is, we must expect our summer skies to turn gray from fire and our air to smell of smoke.  You can be sure of it, the climate is changing.

Back to the Prairie

I returned to the American Prairie Foundation Preserve recently and got to see much more of the landscape. It's quite amazing, from prairie dog towns to a cliff the Indians once used to drive buffalo to their death so they could harvest meat as well as bones and horn and internal organs to make tooks. Little was wasted.
The short grass prairie may be dry, but it's full of life--not just prairie dogs but burrowing owls, elk, lots of pronghorn (antelope), snakes, wildflowers, sagebrush, many kinds of grasses, and more, more, more.
For me, a favorite thing to see, actually just off the actual Reserve lands, is a large polished boulder covered with petroglyphs. Most look like stylized buffalo hooves, and there's a mysterious arrow pointing towards the Missouri River--to what? A river crossing? A favorite buffalo grazing area? Or.....? All a mystery. The Indians leave offerings on the rock such as quarters, bracelets, and a jawbone from a small animal of some kind. Another mystery. This land is full of mystery....

The Creative Urge

Three years ago, I traveled to Jackson, Wyoming, with a friend to attend a Chinese painting workshop given by artist Lian Zhen. I loved it so much that I decided to bring Lian to Missoula, Montana, where I live, this fall. After our local paper, The Missoulian printed an article about the event, my phone rang and rang, and my email got inquiries from artists of all levels from professionals, dabbling amateurs like me, and complete beginners. My 'waiting list' has become an email list for local information and events related to Chinese painting.
So many individuals said that when they saw his paintings they knew they had to learn from him. People who had never lifted a brush wanted to spend a week of their lives in his workshop. This outpouring amazed me and inspired me. I believe that art exists to bring beauty into the world, that the work of an artist can help people relate to the world around them, especially the natural world that Lian so beautifully expresses in his paintings of animals, flowers, and the natural world around us. The overwhelming response to this opportunity for access to tools and techniques that can help in the creative process demonstrates the truth that the creative urge is a fundamental part of being human.

Being by the Creek

Today I decided I had to get away from my computer. The trouble with being a writer is that your work is never done. There's always more to do - update your website, write a blog (which this entry in my journal is becoming!), write articles for Suite101, contact editors, work on a manuscript - It took a low pressure gray day yesterday, which put me in a low mood and low energy, to remember that I am my own boss, after all, and even bosses need breaks!
So I make a sack lunch and headed for a Missoula gem, the Rattlesnake Recreation Area, just 10 minutes from downtown, where you can feel totally alone with nature after walking only 5 minutes.
I found a spot to sit on an exposed tree root in the shade, right by the creek, to eat my lunch. As my eyes wandered over the scene, I noticed this spot is all about texture - the smooth but tough leafy texture of the native dogwood, the rough mulitcolored texture of the twisted roots' bark, the delicate softness of narrow petals of a wildflower, the rich cushiony complexity of the dark-to-pale green wet moss on the stream rocks. Then the textures of the water itself as it flowed and rolled and foamed around the rocks, streaked with indigo depths and green tree reflexions. Despite the forty or so cars in the lot, I heard no one except one quick yell from a young child, it was just me, the creek, and the plants. How many people are lucky enough to live in a place with such natural escapes only minutes away? As always, I felt blessed to live here.
Then, refreshed from my break, I headed home to update my website and write this blog entry. My mother used to say jokingly, "No rest for the wicked," but maybe there's a little rest for the writer!

Wild Fruit, Tame Fruit

Summer is a time of such lushness and beauty and fresh flavor and abundance! While I love the promise of Spring, I revel in the harvests of summer, and this summer here in Montana has been yielding especially abundant harvests. First of all is the wild harvest, with our native chokecherries weighing down the branches of these tall bushes along the rivers and roadways. Chokecherry syrup is a favorite treat for me, and I've been picking the cherries and making the syrup, experimenting with methods. I've found that the best way to get the unique flavor from the cherries is to cover them with either water or fruit juice and boil, energetically mashing them with a potato masher to release the flesh from the pits. The mashing also gently releases some flavor from the pits, which I think gives the syrup its special wild quality. Then I strain the pulp, mashing more to release juice and flavor. I put the residue back into the pan, cover again with water, and repeat the boiling, mashing, and straining. I measure the juice, add an equal amount of sugar, and boil until the liquid becomes syrupy. If you used water instead of fruit juice, you might need to add some pectin to thicken the syrup to the right consistency. I pour the syrup into clean jars and refrigerate them. You could process the jars into a canner so they will seal and can be stored in the pantry if desired. We tried the syrup out on out of town visitors and had to give them a jar of it to keep up the friendship!
Later this week we visited Forbidden Fruit Orchard in Paradise, MT, a perfectly named enterprise--the peaches are so luscious it almost seems a sin to enjoy something so much. Look closely at the photo, and you'll see a hidden surprise among the leaves.

Doggy Reunion

I've given up trying to catch up on my year and am plunging right into the here and now with this post.
I experienced a delightful evening this week at the "Golden Birthday" party for Brea. Brea is a dog, not a person, and a party like this is unusual indeed, a reunion for people and canines who had been associated with a service dog program in Montana. Brea turned 12 on August 12, hence the concept of her golden birthday, not to mention that she and most of the dozen or so dogs who attended are Golden Retrievers.
I became a part of this group while working on one of my most fun and rewarding projects, my book The Right Dog for the Job with photographer Bill Muñoz, about Irah, a Golden Retriever puppy who began his life as a candidate for a service dog but ended up being instead the beloved and wonderful guide dog for blind piano tuner Don Simmonson. Bill and I spent many happy hours observing and working with the dogs and people in the program and made many new friends, both canine and human, in the process.
As with any service dog program, many of the animals ended up as family pets instead of working dogs--idiosyncrasies that don't matter or that even make a pet even more beloved can easily deep six a serious career. But the stories that came out during the evening showed how wonderful and varied the bonds can be between humans and dogs and made me realize that the dogs who didn't make it had become just as important in the lives of their families as any working dog.
As I have no dog of my own now, one of the best parts of the evening was the constant circling of the dogs around the humans, snuggling their muzzles under our hands and deftly tossing upward so the hand ended up on top of a soft, furry head. Knowing this would happen in a room full of what some people call "velcro dogs," I had been smart enough to wear khaki colored pants with a slick finish, so I escaped relatively unfurred, but very content.