Archives for July 2005

Camping in Glen Canyon

Deep cliff shadows engulf the canyon.
Softened sunlight fades.
Darkness comes quick.
After a windy evening storm
I push my feet in wet sand
and listen to storm-provoked waves
of Lake Powell crashing in the darkness

Bats chase moths around the kerosene lamp.
An owl hoots from Cottonwood skeletons.

I’m 50 miles from any town
trapped in Glen Canyon’s heart.
The only way out is a boat.
I feel the restless
waters of the Colorado River
wanting to burst.
The lake whispers!

Using WordPress Now

Well, I am going to try WordPress for a while and see if I like it! Earlier today, I imported all my entries from my Movable Type blog. I still have my Movable Type installation. I?ve spent the better part of this day, trying to figure out how to use WordPress. Things have been pretty chaotic, but the more I learn and become familiar, the easier this will be. The reason for switching over to WordPress is because there are more free templates available, it is open source software, and I like the many plug-ins available! Also I might be redoing my photoblog using a program called Folderblog. It looks too dead simple to use, that I cannot resist the urge. I?m into the real simple for some reason, so that I can get the jobs done quick and easy. My time is limited, so stay tuned!

Tsosie

I sheep herded a few years back and worked for Burtons Livestock, out of Parowan, Utah. I couldn’t wait for lambing season to be over, to move the sheep up on the mountain. For a couple of weeks, I could enjoy the aspen and pine before my job was done. The nights spent up there were always magnificent; a billion stars lit the sky, and the pines sung like rivers. I worked with and enjoyed the company of my friend, Tsosie, a 67 year old Navajo sheepherder. It’s been a few years since I last spoke with him. He had told me to come back and visit him on the mountain sometime, but I never did. He spent his summers up there alone, tending sheep. His family lived in Farmington, New Mexico. His son, Thomas said that he had always worked far from home and would come home to visit, maybe once a year. Tsosie worked for the railroad, worked as a sheepherder for several years in the Uintah Mountains of Northern Utah. Work took him as far as California. He swore a lot, told plenty of dirty jokes, and bragged about the all woman he’d met. He was a great friend, and I should’ve gone and visited him before he quit working for the Burtons.

So I wander about my friend… Is he still sheepherding somewhere out in Nevada? Or is he still in Southern Utah? As I dwell on his absence, it would be nice to speak to him again. There are places that I revisit and explore in those same mountains above Parowan. Tsosie talked a lot about those hills. He was like a monk, always up there with the sheep and that was his lifestyle. All summer long he rarely came off the mountain.