I believe.

About ten days ago I was in Washington, DC doing some sightseeing. I took the opportunity to visit the National Archives to see the copies of the Declaration of Independence, the Constitution and the Bill of Rights that are on display there.
As I stood in the serpentine line in front of the chamber where they are in special, climate controlled cases, I could see that the light in the chamber is dim and has a yellowish cast to protect the documents. No flash photography is allow. When it was my group's turn to view, I went to the Constitution and Bill of Rights first. The writing on the old documents was faint. It was hard to read the words through the tinted glass and dim light for the ink was quite faded. There seemed to be erasures here and there. Those marks were probably copiest's corrections, but as I stood there I had a nearly irrepressable urge to try bring the words on the parchment, and the rights they bestow, back to full vigor by clapping my hands and loudly chanting, "I believe. I believe. I believe."

In the early morning rain...

This morning I saw something new. I was driving back into town from Brooklyn Lake where Gail and I had spent the night at altitude. While driving toward home, I had watched the cloudy sky shift colors as the sun made its way up toward the eastern horizon. As I was coming into town from the west, I passed through a light rain shower. When I pulled up to a stop sign and looked for approaching traffic, what I saw instead, high in the sky, was a rainbow made by the rays of the not yet risen sun.

In the cool, cool, cool of the morning

Weekday mornings, hot and sweaty from my morning workout, I leave the overheated gym. After buckling my helmet and zipping up my jacket, I fumble with the combination lock that is usually upside down. When my bike is free at last, I hop on and peddle toward home. It’s then that the cool, clear morning air hits me. Crisp and refreshing it washes over me as I gather speed. I suck in lungs’ full of the clean, mountain air and rejoice in this small thing that feels so good.

Momma Mia

Despite reading several reviews which gave the movie thumbs down, my daughter and I went to see Momma Mia while she was here for a visit. We both loved it. Everyone I have talked to who has seen it loved it. You smile. You laught out loud. You tap your toes. You start to hum, then start to sing along. Others report seeing people dancing in the aisles and singing along en masse.

It was the most fun I have had at a movie in years.

If you haven't seen it, grab your daughter, your mother, your best friend or any other woman you know and go laugh, sing, dance.

Honeydew

One of the nice things about living at this altitude (7,200') is that not many species of insects find it hospitable. We don't have termites, fleas, or many of the other pests which bug people. We do have mosquitoes a few weeks each year, and ants, some spiders, bees, wasps (We have some excellent paper wasp nests in our attic which look just like the ones in the cartoons.) and we have aphids.

Aphids thrive here. They seem to especially love columbine and cottonwoods. When they get started at the Columbine Campgound, there is hardly a vacant space for a hungry aphid to pull up and attach. The columbine go from looking fine one day to looking drained as the life is sucked out of them the next. A spritz of a solution of water with a few drops of dishwashing detergent saves the day for the columbine.

The cottonwoods are a different story. We live in the part of Laramie which abutts the south and west campus. This area is know as the tree area. The people who built houses here 80 or a 100 years ago also planted cottonwood trees. The trees, which have grown huge, line most of the streets in this part of town. Most of the time this is wonderful. During aphid season, it is not. Aphids attach themselves to the leaves in branches of the cottonwoods which overarch the streets, the sidewalks, the yards, houses and everything on their surfaces. The tiny insects then begin the feast. However, as we all know, what goes in must come out. And boy, does it. The billions of aphids produce gallons and gallons of byproduct known as honeydew. This clear, sticky substance first covers the leaves of the trees then the excess begins dripping and gets on the roofs, the grass, the sidewalks, the cars, the lawn furniture. Well, you get the picture, it gets on everythings under the trees. It is as if this entire part of town was sprayed with syrup. During the peak season, honeydew gets so thick on the cars in the streets under the trees that you can't see out without diligent, daily window washing. I took my car to the uwashit car wash yesterday to power spray it with hot soapy water. It is already covered with aphid poop.

We are waiting for a downpour. Hoping that it will wash things off and slow the aphids down. We are in the middle of a drought, so our wait may last until the first hard frost which spells doom for the aphids.

What's blooming at Happy Jack?

The Pole Mountain area received good snowfall this past winter. Besides providing good skiing most of the late winter and early spring, plenty of snow means lots of wild flowers in the summer. Last time I was up there walking with our puppy, Sadie, I tried to notice and remember how many different flowers I saw. This is a list of what I remember. There were more.

miner's candle
geraniums
lupine
dandlions
mule's ears
yarrow
calypso orchids
mountain bluebells
wild strawberries
wild roses
blue-eyed grass
paintbrush
purple pincushions
ladies'tresses
butter and eggs
gay feather
snow drops
larkspur

A friend who has raised cattle said that larkspur is deadly poison to them. Evidently, it works extremely quickly. "Drops them in their tracks," according to her.

Mosquito season

Every month there is a fee on my city utility bill for mosquito control. Laramie is in a river valley. The mighty Laramie River rises with the snow melt, flowing into low lying areas, forming perfect breeding grounds for mosquitoes. Late spring rains and snows leave enough water everywhere the water can pool even far from the flood plain. When the nights warm up enough, the billions of eggs laid by the industrious insects hatch. The blood letting begins. Now is the time to buy stock in insect repellent the smell of which replaces he scent of lilacs.

When the human and other warm blooded residents of the area are sufficiently drained, the city begins its spraying program. Late at night you can hear the drone and whoosh of the sprayers as they drive he streets fogging the city with chemicals which kill the mosquitoes. God only knows what they do to the rest of us.