slowly she turned

Living the Slow life in North Carolina

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  • Glacier National Park, May 17, 2016, Part II


    Next we headed north to the east side of Going-to-the-Sun Road at St. Mary’s Lake. I wanted to do a bit more hiking but we had no water left in our bottles and every store in the little town there was closed. We drove up as far as we could to the point where you could see Jackson Glacier. It looked like a snowfield in the distance, which was a bit disappointing after some of the dramatic glaciers we saw in Alaska. I took photos of wildflowers everywhere that I could.

    Near the bottom of the road a grizzly bear ran in front of the car ahead of us out of a meadow into a little stand of trees. I only got a glimpse because I was fumbling with my camera. Lesson learned – I mostly missed seeing the bear AND I didn’t get the shot. But still! A grizzly bear!



    ^^^There it is. “Jackson Glacier is approximately the seventh largest of the remaining 25 glaciers in Glacier National Park…In 1850, there were an estimated 150 glaciers in the park. Glaciologists have stated that by the year 2030, many if not all of the glaciers in the park may disappear completely.”

    ^^^This was a lovely little stream with several waterfalls and a good trail. Those are colorful rocks, not leaves.

    ^^^The sedimentary layers in the Lewis Overthrust were fascinating.


    ^^^We returned the car, hung out at the historic depot, and got on the train with no problem. Taking clear photos from the train was not easy, so I don’t have many. I smuggled a few Montana beers with us which I ended up lugging around for most of the trip! We had dinner on the train and I got off for a few minutes at Whitefish, but after that we slept through the rest of Montana, Idaho, and the edge of eastern Washington.

  • Glacier National Park, May 17, 2016, Part I

    We decided to explore the east side of the park on Tuesday, sticking fairly close to the East Glacier depot since we didn’t want a repeat of nearly missing the train. After a visit to the Spiral Spoon and Brownies next door, we headed to Two Medicine Lake.

    On the way, we stopped for a small herd of horses in the highway.

    A young couple equipped with bear spray let us tag along with them on an easy trail to Running Eagle Falls. Part of the waterfall seemed to pour out from inside the cliff. We saw moose scat on the trail and later we saw a female moose back in the trees, as well as a big-horned ram running along the road.

    Then at Two Medicine Lake, there was a spot on the shore that must have had a special meaning for Native Americans.

    I wonder what the story was behind these two sites. I told Sandy that this was a place that I would like for my ashes to be scattered. I’d like to think that I might end up in a rocky stream headed for an ocean. Traveling after life.

  • Glacier National Park, May 16, 2016

    This was our 29th anniversary. We started by heading east to Browning, Montana, to see the Museum of the Plains Indian, operated by members of the Blackfeet Nation. It is a very unassuming building on the outside and we wondered if it was even open. I’m glad that it was, because the exhibits were excellent. I wish that I could have taken photos but it was not allowed. If you are interested in Native American clothing, needlework, art, and culture, I highly recommend it.

    Then we decided to head over to the western side of the park, where the little town of West Glacier was pretty much closed. We were able to find some good food down the road at a bar called Packer’s Roost in Coram. The only park facility that was open was the visitor’s center on that side of Going-to-the-Sun Road, so I was able to buy my all-important magnets and get that coveted stamp for my National Parks Passport book. We found out that this road was closed through the highest part of the park due to massive amounts of snow. However, we were able to see some of the most beautiful parts of the park along the part that was still open.

    Even though I griped about us getting to the park a week early, it turned out that a week later they had a big storm with major flooding and we couldn’t have seen even these parts if we had waited, so the lesson is to shut up and enjoy what’s there to be enjoyed. And we did. Lake McDonald is famous for its clear waters, reflections of the mountains around it, a picturesque old lodge, which, of course, was not open…and oh my God, I could have just sat down on its shore for hours just playing with the rocks.

    There was some impressive whitewater coming down McDonald Creek. It would have been nice to hang a hammock and listen to the falls. The water was glacial green where it roared through narrow passes.

    Hard to believe all that empties into this:

    Then, just when we felt like we were sated with beauty, the day ended with a rainbow.

  • On the Empire Builder, May 15, 2016


    On Sunday morning, we headed to the dining car for a full breakfast. Part of the reason I decided to spring for the sleeping room was that our meals came with the room, and I thought that we’d probably sleep better than in coach. We had always wanted to travel on a train with sleeping berths, so now that’s done. The upper sleeping berth was not a good option for either of us and the tiny room was stuffy and hot with the door closed. However, the meals were good and it was nice to have some privacy. It was a long ride so I guess that I’m glad we chose this option. I’d give it a 5 on a scale of 1-10 for the experience.

    ^^^Sandy watches North Dakota go by from the sleeper car.

    We slept through Minnesota and most of North Dakota, but the rest of the day was spent gazing out the windows of our room or the observation car. I had planned to weave on my travel loom, but I quickly figured out that my choices were needlework/reading/nausea, Dramamine/naps, or watching the scenery of a part of the country I have never been. We enjoyed meeting people in the dining and observation cars.

    The North Dakota and Montana plains were greener and more beautiful than I expected. Much of the route followed a river that snaked and back and forth on either side. I’ve learned in the past few years that mostly treeless hills appeal to me very much because I love to see the way the earth is shaped and cut. The small towns that we moved through showed their backsides to the railroad. It was almost voyeuristic. I loved the geometry. Maybe I am destined for the high plains.

    We stopped long enough in a couple of towns that we were able to get off and stretch our legs. In Shelby, Montana we were there long enough for me to take some photos around the depot.

    Finally we pulled up to the little town of East Glacier, Montana, at the eastern foot of Glacier National Park in the Blackfeet Reservation. Here we were met by Mark, who owned the Whistling Swan Motel, the rental car business, Two Medicine Grill, and the general store. In other words, he owned almost every business that was open that we needed. He was quite an entrepreneur. We soon learned that we had arrived about 1-2 weeks before businesses in the area opened for the season. Mark upgraded our room in honor of our 29th anniversary, and we caught up on the sleep that we’d missed the night before in a spacious clean room with cable, a new bathroom, and a much-needed high pressure massaging hot shower in a motel that most people wouldn’t even consider. I’ve reached the point where I couldn’t care less if I ever sleep in a chain motel again. (I found the Whistling Swan by exploring Google maps.)

    There was still snow on the ground in places from the six inches they had gotten the day before, but the weather was perfect while we were there.


  • Planes, Trains, and Automobiles. May 14, 2016

    Sandy and I spent most of the first day of our vacation getting to the Amtrak station in St. Paul, Minnesota by plane. We found a cheaper way to park near Raleigh Durham Airport through a service that contracts with nearby hotels to use their parking lots and airport shuttles. The one we used saved us about half of what we would have paid at the economy lot and it was a good hotel in a nice area: One Stop Parking. What a good idea for a business. Then we flew to Minneapolis by way of Atlanta, where our plane was delayed for an hour because someone broke a seat in the exit row and it had to be replaced. I thought that we were still okay on our schedule because I had planned on an extra hour to get something to eat before we got on the Empire Builder at 10:20 p.m. that night. I was wrong.

    Mainly I was wrong about the quickest, easiest way from MSP airport to the Amtrak depot in St. Paul. I thought that it would take about 30 minutes by light rail. Don’t ask me how I got this information. I must have dreamed it. At 9:45 p.m. I looked at the number of stops before the depot and it began to dawn on me that there was a good possibility that we would miss the train. I decided to call the station from the Metro and was thwarted by a phone robot that did not understand my answers to its questions. This quickly got worse after two gangs of drunk young teenagers surrounded us in the car and started screaming accusations at each other about a stolen bike.

    I watched the clock nervously as I waited 20 minutes for a station agent to answer, while the situation around us deteriorated. One group of kids got off the train and the other group got in a loud threatening argument with a grizzled old man sitting in front of us who kept saying things to escalate the tension and doing things like wiggling his fingers at the sides of his head yelling “BLEH!!!!”

    Finally I got a human on the phone and I was nearly crying. I shouted into the phone that I couldn’t hear them for the yelling around me and that we were almost there and we’d be running with our luggage but we’d get there at probably exactly 10:20 and could they please, please, please hold the train for a few minutes? Miraculously, I barely heard the agent say that they would hold the train for eight minutes.

    The old man slipped off the train suddenly and the teenager who had been yelling at him turned to Sandy. “What about you, do you think I’m a n—–r?” Sandy said that he didn’t know him and he didn’t know who he was. I sat behind Sandy mouthing, “No, no, no!”

    This is not the way I envisioned beginning our vacation.

    Suddenly the teenager said, “Hey, are you taking the train to North Dakota?”

    I stammered, “No, Montana.”

    The man behind us said he was going to North Dakota. The teenager told us to have a good trip and the whole group got off the Metro at the stop just before the depot. At this point we jumped up and started getting our luggage ready to run for the Empire Builder. I shrugged on my backpack and let go of the pole to adjust it. The train shifted and I fell backwards; the backpack and my elbow taking the brunt of the fall. North Dakota Man helped me up and pointed us in the right direction. The depot was huge and there was a high school prom going on in the middle of it. It was confusing to say the least.

    But we did it. We made the train. And Amtrak helped.

    We collapsed into our sleeping bunks, exhausted, in pain, and jacked up from the adrenaline. I got very little sleep that night. But at least neither of us would be driving the next day. We were passengers on the Amtrak Empire Builder.

    More to come. The rest will involve way less drama and way more photos, trust me.

  • Easing back into real life

    Hello.

    I’ve had a wild ride for the past few weeks, and I’m about to spend a week or so posting photos and blogging a two week plane train and automobile trip Sandy and I took to Montana, Washington, and Oregon. This trip was one of our best! We visited five national parks and monuments and spent several days on the Oregon Coast with my friends Pam, Jenny, and Jeanne, and met Jenny’s husband Glen.

    I came back to the back forty reverting to nature, mosquitoes and humidity, my black hollyhock blooming, the butterbeans and field peas coming up, no sunflowers, a newly painted kitchen, and my keys to work and the church studio missing. It’s a tad overwhelming, but it is good to be home and I missed my feline babies.

    The week has also brought me some grief about the state of Deep Roots Market, which has changed its mission and its business model to a community grocery store that carries regular grocery items as well as the organic, local, and sustainable products we have come to rely on their staff to select for us. After a tense conversation with the head of the Board of Directors, I’m not sure that I will be able to support this revised co-op to which I have devoted money, time, and love for many years. The good news is that three excellent people were just elected to the Board of Directors; three that remember and support the original mission of the co-op. I am genuinely sad about Deep Roots. I have lost another place that my heartstrings were attached to – that makes three places so hopefully it is finished. I loved the shiny new location, but now I pine for the crowded old metal building and trailer where I knew the staff and could count on them to care about the ethics of the products. Thank God that the Greensboro Farmers Curb Market continues to grow and improve. That will probably be my saving grace. It is just that I have gotten lazy on Saturday mornings.

    Just before I left I took Sir Theo to the vet for his allergies, and I was dragged into the reality that he is in kidney failure in addition to a pronounced heart murmur. I’m still trying to get my head around that, although by now I should never be surprised at a diagnosis of renal disease in my cats. This is the fourth time in the past ten years. We’re becoming experts. However, he does not seem dehydrated or miserable so I am putting off subcu fluids for now.

    My sister has adopted two adorable kittens and I may drive to Chapel Hill for an afternoon so that I can see them while they are still at this cutest age. My grand-nephew’s other grandmother is critically ill, and he is now her only relative since his father died in January. His life has been upended and tumbled so many times now and my heart aches for him. Please hold them in the light.

    The back yard needs a machete or even a bushhog taken to it and mud needs to be scraped up off the “patio” and the path to the back building is slick with mildew and blocked by vines and branches. Pokeweed is growing on Lucy’s grave. The screen house screens were so ripped up that I tore them down and I’m not going to replace them again. Somebody please send me a gardener, preferably one who looks like Sam Elliott. However, the front yard and porch is a beautiful facade of shady comfort, providing lettuce and herbs for fresh salads so there’s that.

  • Tapestry Weavers South Show, plus a general update

    It’s been a busy time, but after this week I should have more time to devote to this blog as well as my artistic pursuits. I work at a university and graduation is tomorrow.

    Since I last wrote, I made a travel journal for a friend who is retiring from the University, I began weaving on “Cathedral” again, and the 20th Anniversary Show of Tapestry Weavers South opened Tuesday night at the Yadkin Cultural Arts Center.

    It is incredibly impressive for an unjuried show. Member weavers from Florida to Virginia to Oklahoma participated. I submitted “Labyrinth at Healing Ground” and here are a few other photos – I will upload the rest to my Flickr account. It was hard to choose because there is so much goodness in this show. What an honor it is to share a gallery with the artists of Tapestry Weavers South!

    Also since I last wrote, the anti-inflammatory meds have started to kick in and I am feeling better and sleeping a little more. One reason I am not happy about the meds is that this is a time of year when there is a lot of celebrating, not to mention STRESS, and I am supposed to limit my alcohol intake. People, I love a beer or two at the end of the day, and I love to try different brews. Yes, I am one of those beer hipsters. Untappd has become one of my favorite apps. Plus, hello, vacation time? It is coming soon! So it is good and bad. It is good that I should be able to walk without pain, not so good that I will have to go to a great craft brewery area and be careful about drinking. I will take lots of Tums, believe me, because I can’t see me having this kind of self-control.

    With less than two weeks to go until our big trip out West, I am not actually present in the moment most of the time. Anticipation is coursing through my veins.

    The nice thing is that I will have a house-sitter who the cats are used to and they love her. There will be no worry over my critters, except for what the little hellions might do to Susanne. She set up a lot of her studio here last month and has been hosting a few classes here until she gets moved to her new place.

    I have a very busy day on Saturday. First the Deep Roots Market annual owners’ meeting (which I feel obligated to attend after the Julia Sugarbaker style rant I delivered to the Board of Directors nearly a year ago), then LEE SMITH, one of my very favorite authors will be at Scuppernong Books in Greensboro, and then I have an appointment with my massage therapist late that afternoon. In between I’ll be getting the kitchen ready for the guy who Sandy hired to paint on Sunday. I have a feeling that I will disappear to my studio space at the church that day.

  • Auuggghhhh

    (Warning: this is a long, frustrated post. One of the things that I try to accomplish with this blog is to talk openly about my experiences with anxiety, depression, and agoraphobia. These days people seem to be more educated about it, so when I hear this kind of reaction, however vague, to my taking medication for my GAD, it really bothers me. Medication changed my life. This is one of the reasons that this blog is called “Slowly She Turned.” It began during my transition to good mental health.)

    I have mixed feelings about this latest doctor visit for my chronic hip pain, which flared up big time about a month ago.

    On one hand, I want to trust this orthopedic doctor, but my experiences with chronic back and hip pain over the years has led me to question M.D. diagnoses and anti-inflammatory drugs for good reasons.

    On the other hand, I didn’t get an injection so I am relieved about that. He says that he thinks that my hip pain is coming from inflammation around a slightly degenerated disk in my lower back, so he prescribed meloxicam for me. He was kind, but I couldn’t help feeling a bit like a hypochondriac, just like back in the 90s when I saw so many doctors for back and hip pain.

    The other part of this visit that frustrated me was this conversation about my medications:
    Dr.: “You don’t seem depressed.”
    Me: “I am weaning myself off anti-depressants now.”
    Dr.: “You don’t seem like an anxious person.”
    Me: “That’s because I am on anti-anxiety meds.”
    Dr.: “A friend of mine who is a psychologist says that the basis of anxiety is fear.”

    I go into a short, calm explanation of being diagnosed with panic disorder and the fact that it runs in my family.

    Me: “At one time I got to the point where I had problems leaving the house, but I pushed my way through it because I know that agoraphobia is behavioral, and since then I have traveled all over the world.”

    He shook my hand and walked out.

    I told the nurse how relieved I was not to get the shot (she already knew that I was very anxious) because the last time it was so painful I fainted and was nauseated and had to lie down for 30 minutes after I got the injection and was in pain all day and that night.

    Nurse: “I’m surprised that you made yourself come in.”
    Me: “That’s because I push through my fear.”

    In the 80s, I was diagnosed with osteoarthritis, and I ruined my stomach with anti-inflammatory drugs.

    In the 90s, I was told that I didn’t have osteoarthritis, and I started crying, and the orthopedic doctor (another one) told me that he thought that I was depressed and I “stored depression in my hip.” Why? Because I was crying. I told him that I was crying because I had been in pain for years and nobody could tell me why. DUH.

    Finally I found a chiropractor and took yoga classes and got better after years of treatment, but in the past ten years chiropractic and yoga has not worked for this hip pain, although it helped my back tremendously. I’ve tried acupuncture too.

    Seven years ago, as much as I wanted to stick with alternative medicine and therapies, that cortisone injection was the first thing that helped my hip pain, and I was able to walk without pain on a trip to Alaska a few weeks later.

    Now it is supposed to be coming from my back?

    That’s why I have mixed feelings about not getting the shot. I hope that I will be able to walk and sit without pain a few weeks from now on my big trip west.

  • Making paper from denim scraps, part I

    I’ve been pretty bummed out about Fred and jealous of my friend Susanne, who spent her spring break marbling paper at my house while I dealt with April craziness at work last week. When the weekend got here I played in my studio until I triggered carpal tunnel in my right hand again. Can’t blame anybody but me for that one. I knew I was overdoing it but I wanted to get as many denim scraps cut up fine as I could to make paper pulp in Susanne’s “Critter” on Sunday. It’s going to make beautiful paper once my nerve endings get back to normal. Right now it is in buckets in my back yard. I am chompin’ at the bit to get back to creating and I find it very frustrating to be stopped in the middle of a roll like this, especially when I’m trying to distract myself from depression.

    ^^^Susanne Martin’s marbled paper


    ^^^Denim trimmings and threads that unraveled from the cloth strips I’m weaving together for a picnic blanket.

    ^^^Adding cotton linter pieces and stirring until the Critter started circulating the pulp on its own. Fabulous little machine.


    ^^^Later this week I hope to show you this stuff in the form of beautiful blue handmade paper.


    ^^^Planted these lettuce seedlings at the front steps this year. We are having a late frost so I’m glad that I haven’t planted anything else. I’m going to plant my butterbeans and field peas next to the fence again in a couple of weeks.

    ^^^A sweet shot of Theo, trying to charm me into letting him sleep on my pillow, preferably on my face.

  • Latest photos from Lake Waccamaw

    I didn’t get a photo of either pileated woodpecker that I watched while I was there, but I now know that the “wild laughter” I heard came from them, not loons. It rained most of the time we were there. We said goodbye to Fred on Monday and I sent a piece of driftwood and a duck feather from the lake with him.

    ^^^The bones of the tree that I am weaving. I seldom see it bare.

    ^^^A melancholy evening in bed.

    ^^^The Easter Gator.

    ^^^A reminder that persistence pays off.