a happy find

Posted on June 7, 2016 by Kim Halloran-Fry

It is said to see the birds you must become part of the silence. If that is so then it is especially interesting that it was Brendan who found the little quail (yes? I am pretty sure but could be wrong) all puffed up in the cool evening air. This boy is a ball of energy much of the time but, then again, nothing gets past him. He knows I have tried for a year now to get a good image of my favorite little birds here. Occasionally they make there way up here, but the largest flock of them live one street down. If we are on the road early enough we see them scurry as fast as their little legs can carry them. Once the babies are big enough they follow behind in a line and without fail I break out into C'mon Get Happy. (version with happy little animated partridges and the bumper sticker I should own here)

Too much totally irrelevant sharing? Sorry.

Anyway, he was out after dinner the other night and caught a glimpse of this beauty. He carefully tiptoed back inside to tell me to get my camera then led me quietly back where he found it. It really made my evening.

of moose and marigolds

Posted on June 1, 2016 by Kim Halloran-Fry

The timing could not have been more perfect. We had been sitting out back last week talking about our zoning and our place and the plans I once had for my life, how they overlap and where they depart from how life actually played out. We talked about the possibility of doing more urban homesteading. As we talked about this I occasionally glanced down at the withering marigold seedling that had been fighting a losing battle in the shiny blue pot that sat between us.

There are goats at the farm way down below us. Their bleating can be heard in the early morning and late evenings. The rooster's crow echoes up the mountainside before dawn. (4:50am thankyouverymuch) It reminds me of the different farms we have lived on and that agrarian spirit in me stirs and thinks, "We could put up a small coop. We could build some grow boxes. Get bee hives. We could…."

We could.

This morning I was grinding the coffee beans when I caught something moving outside in the corner of my eye. Sure enough, first moose sighting of the year. We stood face to face for just a moment before it wandered off to hang out near our neighbors' flagpole.

We could homestead some again - plant things, milk animals. Moose won't be passing through if we fence ourselves in up here though. And those plants and livestock wouldn't tend themselves while we tagged along on business trips or sat at ballgames or cared for sick relatives and friends or planned weddings or remodeled basements or go to swimming lessons – all things that currently take up the better part of my waking hours. The plants I am in charge of often go the way of the marigold. Often. Very often. The little animals might not fare much better living here on the cusp of mountain and city where hawks circle overhead and deer nibble at the trees and shrubs.

Reality. I come to it reluctantly very often, often only after much wrestling. I know this and know it well: you can have it all (ok, not really 'all' though you can have many different experiences in life) just not at the same time.

God knew better than I where we would thrive and what place fit the life He was planning and the things He would be asking of us. This visit reminds me it is still wild and so very beautiful.

Canyonlands Half Marathon 2016

Posted on March 20, 2016 by Kim Halloran-Fry

The sun was shining in beautiful Moab, UT last weekend and we were race groupies once again. It was the first time since we moved back and it felt good to be going through the familiar paces: picking up race packets, pinning numbers on, squeezing to the front of the finish line for that high five. We spent a three day weekend almost entirely outside, soaking in the canyon lands and shooting a crazy number of frames. I felt very like myself again by the end.

the fire on the mountain

Posted on February 7, 2016 by Kim Halloran-Fry

Then Heidi went on to give him an account of the whole day and how delightful it had all been, and particularly described the fire that had burst out everywhere in the evening. (Heidi told him of the mountain with the great snowfield, and how it had been on fire and had turned rosy-red and then all of a sudden had grown quite pale again and all the color had disappeared.) And then nothing would do but her grandfather must tell how it came, for Peter knew nothing about it. Then Grandfather explained to her that it was the sun that did it. "When he says goodnight to the mountains he throws his most beautiful colors over them, so that they may not forget him before he comes again the next day."

– Heidi, Johanna Spyri

When we read about about Heidi's delight seeing her first mountain sunset I knew just how she felt. For just a few moments morning and evening the sun and the mountains meet, either those just behind us or the ones on the island to the west. Some nights it is almost unbearably beautiful.

Light chasers might want to check out the app, Skyfire, which is said to be about 80% correct when predicting when and where the sky will be most brilliant. I have only just downloaded so I can't comment yet.

Snow Shoe-ing

Posted on January 29, 2016 by Kim Halloran-Fry

Ok so when I pictured us and snow shoes I was envisioning tennis rackets like Pa Ingalls wore. It being about 150 years later and all they handed out aluminum frame models. In yellow. That made the kids' class look an awful lot like a flock of little ducks as they flapped along down the trail.

This is a winter sport I think I like. It makes hiking a year round option. You walk, you stop, you take pictures.

Highlights of this walk were finding a deer scapula and magpie tracks.

Jan 2016 snowshoe web (3 of 6)

(subtitled: "My legs are jello.")

look, she said

Posted on December 12, 2015 by Kim Halloran-Fry

Before and After

Posted on November 29, 2015 by Kim Halloran-Fry

Last week out my back window, in all it's golden glory.

Just a few days later we got our first winter storm here in the highlands. Still beautiful, just different. With the last of the Thanksgiving leftovers being finished off the inside of the house is also transitioning from autumn to advent. I have absolutely loved watching the view change here and am embracing this new season wholeheartedly.

I am ready.

turkey day – no, for real…

Posted on November 25, 2015 by Kim Halloran-Fry

Sometime mid-summer we were visited by a handful of wild turkeys who wandered across the back yard, into the neighbors', and on off down the side of the mountain not to be seen again. Knowing how weird enthusiastic I am about unexpected wildlife sightings, when Aidan spotted them coming down the drive today he told me I better get my camera. I don't generally need to be told twice so I grabbed it and got out front in time to see the last one waddle past.

Turning on my heel I beelined through the house again. When I got out the back door there was a gobble….overhead. Not a turkey in sight. Another gobble. Then I looked up to see several crepey necked fowl peeking over the gutter.

Coming around the house I saw the last one climbing the garage roof…. where he joined the other ten.

A few flew into the trees. The rest crept along the shingles til one inspired the rest with a noble, if less than graceful, flight over the trees towards the base flight line. Pretty sure they didn't reach the runway. In fact gravity likely landed them in the farm pasture at the bottom of the hill.

It was impressive none the less.

an apple a day

Posted on November 8, 2015 by Kim Halloran-Fry

At least for a little while. The girls brought in the last basket before the freeze. It isn't an orchard, just one sturdy tree of very small and rather sweet little apples perched at the edge of the yard just before it drops off down the hillside. The moose and deer sampled. The girls gathered what it shared, carefully washing each and piling them into the basket on the counter.

Oh deer

Posted on November 6, 2015 by Kim Halloran-Fry

The local nature center was calling the other day. Actually three little voices were calling me over and over, "Pleeeeease can we go to the deer class?" So I wrapped up the odds and ends I was working on and we piled in the van. Really, there is no end to work at home. We should keep plugging away everyday but if you aren't careful whole days can pass without getting out in the fresh air and wild places. So it was a very good call, except for the very cold part. It's officially cold now.

This week's class was on mule deer. It began in the education center learning about their senses, antlers, and migration habits. They discussed carry capacity, which is the number of animals a given habitat can support. Then they played a hands on games demonstrating the ebb and flow of deer population.