Place #5 - Errant Wind

9:30 a.m., 40*

All night, an unwelcome rain...and today, a wayward wind.  There is a bit of mud beginning to show in one small section of our road, but most of what I can see rises from the snow.  Because of the rain, and these warmer temperatures, I can see the water in the top layer of the snow.  It's heavy, and will be slow going for Tikaani and I today.

The air smells a bit rank.  Some things nasty are being revealed as the snow gives way to the sun and wind.  I'm always struck by how wind pushing through pines sounds like water.  And today, as I walk next to these clusters of pines, I hear an invisible river flowing across the land; it's particularly loud in this large section of pines on the hill.

It's an oddly warm northwest wind that pushes against us as we walk.  Tikaani doesn't mind, she rolls and slides her body across the wet snow.  If we go too far, she'll be sore in one shoulder tonight.

I've gone out today, in hopes that the wind and warming air will clear my head.  There's recent news of four deaths in the local mountains, all in avalanches.  Marc and his friend Scooter have been up at the Yurt in the North Cascades since Sunday, backcountry skiing.  There's nothing I can do, and worrying doesn't change a thing.  I struggle at times.  I've lost the blind faith in my ability to keep those I love, safe.  People will die, and I can't change that.

These thoughts remind me of the people who settled in this valley in the late 1800's and early 1900's.  They lived and died during "The Cattle-killing Winter" when supposedly thousands of horses and cattle died in the Okanogan county because of prolonged, severe cold.  People came here to mine minerals deep in the North Cascades; so dangerous!  And of course, the women who lived in tents and cabins had to contend with childbirth, rattlesnakes, cougars, flu, flooding rivers, broken bones with few doctors near...

I think of the small birds that chase and harass hawks that come too close to their nests.  I often hear chipmunks chattering, a sure sign that danger is lurking in the thickets or above the treetops.  I think of the coyotes that are lured close to a ranchers paddocks by the sounds of chickens, and bleating calves and lambs.  If they come too close, they are shot.  The wolfpack found their way into snares, and death.

We want what we cannot have.  The promise of a long life. 

Tikaani has found a jawbone, partially uncovered, in the snow.  I reach down to pull it out, but the deeper ice holds fast.  It's nearly as long as my hand, the bone is an ecru color and there is a dark band of brown that runs along the base of the teeth.  I think this could belong to the buck that died up here in the late fall.  We've come across his leg bones, picked clean.  I had to dissuade Tikaani from bringing home that trophy!

We listen to the wind in the aspens, it's quite a different tone than the music in the pines.  I sense the wind straining against the close aspen trunks.  Clouds to the north are shape-shifting.  Some appear as exhaled smoke, thin and curving across the sky.  Other clouds are heavy and dark, sure sign of the water they are wearing.

Each footprint/paw print in the snow is now much larger than it was.  Our tracks from a few days ago look as if they were left by a giant and a huge dog.  The temperatures have distorted our history.

Tikaani abruptly stops in her tracks.  The only thing moving is her lower jaw as she breathes through her mouth.  There's something in the underbrush in a group of pines.  Tikaani tries to leap and bound towards it, but the snow has other plans and seems to clasp onto her paws for a moment, slowing her down.  Whatever it was, probably a chipmunk, it's long gone by the time she gets over to the downed tree.  Safe for another day!

Time to head home.