Don the Chaps and Climb Aboard

The wind is supposed to gust to 55 mph tonight; a wind chill of minus 15-degrees. It will be the greatest test of La Perla; of my down sleeping bag; of Teak curled up on the floor beside the bed. As if in preparation, last night I hung the words, "Cowgirl Up" above the window next to the bed.  A cursive spread of wire letters sculpted by Babette. And yesterday I bought two poinsettas to cheer the soul. One white, one red. They sit on my table next to four candles that cast their primal flame across this little space. Another squat, salmon-orange one burns next to the bed where I type. My tribute to chilly dawn.

In my final act of preparation, I gave up on the easy-to-clean-and-set plastic mousetraps and bought four of the old fashioned wooden Victor's. I was tired of waking up to a trap licked clean of chunky peanut butter. Within ten minutes I'd nabbed a little gray culprit. I wouldn't mind em, really, if they didn't chew into my life and leave turds in the cupboards. The metaphor isn't lost on me.

It's not the easiest living in a winterized trailer. The pipes are full of RV anti-freeze and I have no running water. But I remind myself of my vow of simplicity; of a debt-free life and of plans to head for Mexico on December 5th's new moon. I have one more house sit the week after Thanksgiving. It is on a ranch in the country overlooking the Mancos River. It is where "Target" hangs out. I plan to snap some pictures of the arrow-breasted gobbler and write an article.

In the meantime I spend precious days and evenings with daughter Hope. I count my blessings as Thanksgiving closes in. I cherish love in my life. Excellent health. Teak. Even clean teeth and the $140 it cost to get them that way. I will join hands with the universe on Thursday. Toast friends as I look into their eyes; pray THANKS to the earth, Mother Ultimate.

I feel a poignancy this year. An edge, as grace and urgency converge. I sense that our free ride upon this planet has come to an end.  That we are in for some bucking bronco days. As yesterday, today and tomorrow enfold into holy now, we might all do well to ...