Role Models--select them carefully

Yesterday was a gorgeous day, so in the afternoon I grabbed Lana's sun parasol and went for a walk.

I sent this message and photo to a few closest friends:

Perfect day for a beach walk.  Wish all the people I loved lived close enough to walk with me.

My brother, who is just one year older than I, responded:

Yup, better together now on the beach rather than waiting until we have attendants wheeling us to karaoke.

I know he was joking, but still.  I wrote him back that he needs better role models.  I told him about my friend, Luchita, a beautiful woman from Venezuela, who is turning 96 in a few weeks.  She's having a one-woman gallery show of her painting in November, is also flying to Hawaii in November, and will be traveling to Milan soon to attend the gallery opening of her son, Matt.  Now that's the kind of role model I want to hold onto.   

Below:  Jo and Luchita Mullican, 2006

A Word That Makes Me Wince

Lately I’ve been thinking about words that I use a lot and like—fabulous is one of my favorites--and other words that make me wince.

In Jane Brody’s Personal Health column in today’s New York Times she writes about "Recovery Varies After Spouse Dies.” Brody writes that “Psychologists have long maintained that after after a brief period of sometimes intense bereavement, the vast majority of surviving spouse spouses adjust well…--a psychological outcome referred to as resilience.”

Maybe you’ve already guessed it. RESILIENCE is an over-used word I’ve grown to dislike, and its step-sibling EMOTIONAL RESILIENCE is a phrase I dislike even more. Why such a strong reaction? Because after my former husband died, contrary to what my therapist kept saying, I didn’t know if I had the “resilience” to continue. I didn’t feel strong and springy, that I would bounce back.

The Webster dictionary defines resilience as “an ability to recover from or adjust easily to misfortune or change.” Dictionary.com defines it as the “ability to recover readily from illness, depression, adversity, or the like; buoyancy.

When the word is used for a spouse to buck up after the death of their partner—be resilient, or you’re more resilient than you know—and if you don’t feel resilient, does that mean you're failing at grieving and bereavement?

The word, which crops up everywhere, has become a buzzword. PEOPLE magazine profiles individuals who are resilient after a disaster. Really?

Psychologytoday.com describes resilience as “that ineffable quality that allows some people to be knocked down by life and come back stronger than ever.” Really?

Resilience is yet another example of the psychobabble of our times. It gives short shrift to the serious depths of what’s involved for most people in healing and moving forward.

Hiking the Crazies--A Waterfall Junkie's Dream!

The Crazies, a rugged, rocky range of mountains outside Big Timber, are about a 90-mile drive from our home in Bozeman.  Brad Coffey, with whom I do some guided hikes, suggested the Crazies because he knows how much I prefer a hike-with-a-waterfall.  

Brad Coffey, guide and friend.

As we're leaving home, heading over Jackson Creek Road, just to our right, on the ridge of a hillside, a herd of at least 200 elk are silhouetted against the sky.  It's an unbelievably dazzling Montana sight.  

U.S. Highway 191 North out of Big Timber takes us across wide open, rolling ranch lands that are nearly empty of anyone and anything.  This vast area is so isolated it reminds me of a friend's father, a rancher, who continued living on his ranch out here after his wife died.  His daughter told me how worried she was about her father's isolation and loneliness.  When I see the emptiness of this limitless landscape I understand her concern.  

The last 18 miles of Big Timber Canyon Road to the trailhead at the Half-Moom Campground in the National Forest is a rocky, dirt road that is thick with dust and is deeply pot-holed.  This is seriously hard and slow driving that requires a sturdy, truck-like vehicle with a high wheel base.  To make the driving even more tricky, there are many deer on the sides of the road and piles of identifiable bear scat--black with colorful berries--are visible in the road.

The first waterfall--Big Timber Falls--is an easy 3/4 mile hike from the parking lot.  The vertical drop is a stunning 100 feet, and even though it's almost September, the cascading waterfall is still huge.  For a waterfall junkie like myself, this is a shrine to waterfalls, and this is only the first one on the trail.  I could stay here all day.

Big Timber Falls

After Big Timber Falls, the terrain gets even more rugged.  I'm wearing my usual hiking shoes, and in these seriously rocky conditions I should have a heavier shoe with a much thicker sole and more traction.  I can't say I've ever felt the soles of my feet when I'm hiking until today.  I'm not sure that's such a good thing, either.

We stop for lunch at the first bridge where there's yet another gorgeous waterfall.  The bridges are man-made, the materials are dropped in by helicopter, and are strong enough for a parade of horses from the nearby dude ranches.

A feast of snacks enjoyed on the bridge within view of yet another waterfall.

At the second bridge, at about 7,800 feet altitude, a couple of Frenchmen are swimming in the icy-cold creek.  By day's end we've gone about 6 miles, and taken almost 20,000 steps.  

Big Timber Falls will rate as one of my favorite hikes--right up there with hikes in Chilean Patagonia and the Tobacco Root Mountains in Montana.

Jo's "Simone Biles" moment on the beam over the stream.

Crossing a major stream on the way to the waterfalls on the North Cottonwood Trail, just outside Bozeman, Montana.

It only looks like I'm smiling and confident.  My hiking partner, Brad Coffey, who took this picture, kept reminding me that the logs shift and move.  Right, Brad.  And then I did a back flip.  Just kidding.  The unstable logs are why I look so nervous in the picture below.

The waterfall at the end of the North Cottonwood Trail was our reward.  A 2-hour hike in, and 2-hour hike out.  Gorgeous.  Well worth the trek and the balance beam work!

Sweet Pea Festival Begins!

The Sweet Pea Festival in Bozeman, Montana, begins this Friday and features live music, a beer and wine garden, about 100 craft vendors, and a flower show.

Katalin Green, a local florist, kicked off her own flower show this evening with an extravagant headdress she designed.  Prominently seated at Plonk, the wine bar on Main street, where she is also the florist, Katalin was the center of attention.  When I asked Katalin the significance of her fabulous headdress, she said, "Sweet Pea is a celebration of flowers, and I'm celebrating flowers!"

To support the dozens of fresh flowers she was wearing on her head,  the florist started with a metal armature, added chicken wire, and then the cascade of dazzling, colorful flowers.  What a wonderfully enthusiastic and original response to Sweet Pea.  Good for you, Katalin!

Enjoy This Needle Art

There are many reasons I enjoy and appreciate this miniature work of art that was just embroidered for me by Dorothy Kern and her group of needle artists at the Bozeman Senior Center.

First, I love the hiking image since that’s probably our favorite activity in Bozeman in the summer, and also in the winter.

I’m pleased that it contains the name of our place Little Bear Ranch. Although the name’s a joke since the bear in our kitchen wasn’t so little and the place isn’t really a ranch, the name, which Ed came up with on the spur of the moment, still makes me smile.

I like that the hiker has on a red shirt since that’s my favorite color. However, red is probably not the safest color to wear our in the wild. Red could attract the attention of wild creatures like bears. When you go on safari in Africa, there’s a reason safari clothes are khaki-colored to blend into the landscape.

I also treasure that this artwork is embroidered because my mom, Babe, did embroidery. So this reminds me of her. I wish more than anything that I could show this to her. Hey, Mom, look at this! She would appreciate it so much. She would understand the stitches, and the time that went into creating this little masterpiece. http://jogiese.com

Eatin' in Summer in Montana

This summer we've been making excursions to a few out-of-the-way places to discover down home food.  First, we visited Wilsall, pop. 237, and a gorgeous 30 mile drive north of Bozeman.  Our destination was the Bank Bar and Cafe, the only restaurant in town.

An Adult Swimming Pool Party.

Across the street from the Bank Bar was a lot of kiddie wading pools.  Our waitress explained that they were having a Swimming Pool Party, and the adults were invited to dip their feet and cool off.  After she took our order--all beef, all raised in Wilsall--she suggested we take our wine outside and enjoy the pools.

We had reserved a table, but as a friend asked, Was it really necessary to make a reservation?  Not really.

The highlight of the meal were the wading pools.  Have you ever seen anything like that?  I mean, for adults?

Our next excursion was a stop at the Cafe at the Inn on our way to hiking at Big Sky.  We've passed this charming, tiny place a gazillion times on the Gallatin Gateway, and we never stopped until our friend, Tom, said it's his favorite place for breakfast.   It's cute, old-fashioned, homey, and so small and so popular that unless you arrive really early you'll wait an hour for a table.  The menu looks wonderful, and we'll return again but extra-early so we actually get to eat here.

From our home, Livingston is a short, interesting scenic drive across Jackson Creek.  Before a hike at Pine Creek, we stopped at Gil's Cafe in Livingston for a bite.  It's homey, casual, and my breakfast sandwich was just right.

This is Farm-to-Table the real deal.  Last night we enjoyed a SeasonalMontana Farm-to-Table dinner at Gallatin Valley Botanical Farm prepared by chef Melissa Harrison.  We've been attending Melissa's farm dinners since she started five years ago.  What a delicious and friendly way to spend a lovely summer evening.  Thank you, Melissa, for all your effort and hard work.  It is appreciated.

Remembering My Dear Friend, Carolyn See

My dear friend, Carolyn See, died last week.  She'd been suffering, so her death wasn't a surprise but it was still a shock.  

As I said to Clara, her daughter, the day before Carolyn died, "I can't imagine a world in which Carolyn isn't a part of my life."

Carolyn saved my life once, and, according to Clara, I guess I helped save Carolyn's life, too.  Carolyn's companion of many years, John Espey, had died, and my husband, Douglas Forde, had also died.  One day pretty much out of the blue, in 2006, Carolyn invited me to travel  to India with her.

Neither of us had been to India and it was the exotic tonic both of us needed.  And instantly we got to know each other much better.  On the way to Delhi we had a stopover in Seoul.  At the Seoul airport the departure lounge was upstairs.  At the escalator, Carolyn said, "I don't do escalators."  "And I don't do elevators!"  I said.  We laughed hard, which set the tone for the entire trip.  What a goofy pair of travelers we made.  We took the escalator with Carolyn instructing me exactly how to stand on the step behind her (in case she fell?).  

We spent two weeks in India--think  Pushkar Camel Fair, the pink city of Jaipur, the Lake Palace Hotel in Udaipur.  In the colorful, crazy, chaotic confusion that is India a healing took place: Carolyn and I went from being grief-stricken widows to glowing with a post-bereavment happiness.  

A year later, in 2007, Carolyn invited me to China.  The pre-travel to China established one of the gift-giving rituals of our friendship:  white orchids.  Carolyn didn't realize how many airline miles she'd acquired, and when I turned them in I was able to get her free First Class round-trip airfare to China.  She was so grateful she sent me the most beautiful basket of white phalenopsis orchids.

On our trip to China there was an incident on the Yangtze River where I saw Carolyn at her most brave.  We were at the port about to board the boat for a few days on the Yangtze.  Except our group--we were with UCLA Travel--had arrived after dark, and the twenty or so concrete steps down to the boat were exceedingly steep, there was no hand-railing to hold onto, and no night lighting.   What were the Chinese thinking?  For Carolyn, whose eyesight wasn't good, this was a worst case scenario.  She hung onto me on her left side, another person from the group was on her right, and she took her first step down.  I always thought it must have felt in that pitch black night that she was stepping off into thin air, into nothingness.  But she did it!  She trusted us, and she was calm and brave.  Her only other choice was to be left behind, and that was not going to happen to Carolyn See.

I will miss our lunches.  When January rolls around, I will miss celebrating our January birthdays.  

I will miss calling and asking if I can run something by her.  She always had time, and she was always hilarious, honest, truthful, kind, and spot-on right.  That was one of her gifts.  To put a situation in perspective, and to make you laugh while she did it.  Who wouldn't love and appreciate a friend like that?

Once I e-mailed her from my sister's place in Houston because I was upset and lonely.  She wrote back a long message, which included:

The only bad thing that will happen to us is that we're going to die, and that's not immediate, so let's just see if we can have the nicest time possible.

That was July, 2006.  Now ten years later, July, 2016, "the only bad thing" has happened.  I'm grateful that Carolyn and I did "have the nicest time possible."

The Glory of Gorgeous Green Grass

This summer in Bozeman everywhere you look the world is glistening emerald green.   The grass in our yard has thick luxurious blades that are fresh and fun to walk through barefoot like a child.  Such a lawn issues a playful invitation that should not to be declined.  It reminds me of being a kid and rolling down our front lawn in Seattle.  It makes me want to do a cartwheel, or a somersault.  Or turn on the sprinkler and run through the water as it sprays back and forth.  Simple summer pleasures.

Whether it's a planted lawn, or the grasses of natural grassland, it's still green here as far as the eye can see.  

I'm sure one reason I'm practically licking this lush greenery this season is that I'm parched--coming from drought-stricken California where residents are having to remove their lawns.  The contrast here is startling, and welcomed, and something not to be taken for granted.  It's dazzling and something to be celebrated.

Our Post-Hike Reward

The tower of Strawberry Shortcake at Ted's on the Fourth. Almost makes the 8+ mile uphill hike at Corbly Gulch worth it! Almost. Happy Fourth of July🇺🇸

jogiese.com

Fourth of July Hike🎉

This morning we set off with our pal, Brad Coffey, on our traditional Fourth of July Hike. The only criteria is that we've gotta try a new trail where we've never hiked before.

Brad suggested Corbly Creek Gulch in the Springhill area. To get to the trailhead it's a slow slog on a deeply rutted, bumpy dirt road in 4 wheel drive.

Once we exit the old Tahoe, the air smells fresh and wild --the sweet aroma of blue-violet lupines--and the only accompanying sound is the rushing creek.

We start at 5,480' altitude in the parking lot and hike up-up-up. On our way up to the top, we have to ford Corbly Creek. At the crossing, the creek is running wild and free and deep, and the stepping stones--the only way across--are slick, slimy and slippery. Even with hiking sticks for balance, this feels scary and precarious. Ed and I are both glad to have Brad's assistance.

We've been hiking with Brad for years, and especially on the Fourth of July. Brad Coffey is a maniac athlete, and I say this with great affection and admiration. At 59, he thinks nothing of still suiting up and biking 4-5 days a week, 20-40 miles.

We encounter masses of windflowers alongside the trail--queen Ann's lace, yarrow, daisies--and very few people--a couple of bicyclists, two other hikers. At the peak at more than 8,000 feet, with breathtaking views of the mountains and the valley, we stop for treats--dried coconut, apple slices, blueberries, a tangerine, some salad almonds.

Almost five hours later, we've hiked over 8 miles and we are at our limit. By the time we reach the parking lot we're grateful the hike is over. Usually after our Fourth of July Hike we go directly to Ted's for our reward--the strawberry shortcake, the french fries, the white wine for me, the martini for Ed. Today we're going home first. Later for our favorite treats.

The Fourth of July and Fireworks

This is the time of year when folks start thinking about fireworks.  

And in places like Montana you can still buy these dangerous little do-it-yourself explosives.  Ed and I stopped at the fireworks booth on Rouse in Bozeman, and looked over the new supply and chatted with the Fireworks Lady.  (That's how she identified herself.  'Just call me the Fireworks Lady,' she said.  Appropriately, she was wearing red, white and blue sunglasses.)

Because it was the Fireworks Lady's birthday she gave us a gift--a small Tank, and explained how it works.  It moves along on the ground, and shoots out flaming pellets.  She said, "It's fun to get more than one and send them at each other from different directions!"

We could just see our young friends like Tyr and James enjoying the heck out of these explosive "toys."  But it was a no sell.

My former (and late) husband, a doctor, hated the Fourth of July.  The Fourth of July made him sick.  He said he'd seen too many patients with serious accidents even from seemingly simple, small firecrackers.  Patients would arrive in the hospital with their fingers, hands, faces blown off.  Once, some relatives were setting off firecrackers from our porch, and he couldn't stomach it.   For him, it wasn't playing; it was playing with fire.

So, no, I won't be buying and setting off fireworks this Fourth of July, either.  And I hope wherever you are, you won't be doing it, either, or encouraging anyone else to participate.  The unintended consequences can be too scary.

Have a Happy (and safe) Fourth of July.

The Swing at Little Bear Ranch

When we installed a swing between our living room and dining room, I knew I’d like it, and I suspected it would be fun for others. When I swing, I feel carefree and happy. It’s not possible to fret or worry when you’re pumping on a swing. Or frown. Think about it. Have you ever seen anyone on a swing frowning? And the breeze you create as you whoosh! back and forth is fun.

Last summer when Ed’s son, Wil, made it almost up to the ceiling, for safety our worried contractor replaced the red rope with a sturdier red metal chain.

This past week when my husband’s family was visiting, which included 6 grandchildren, the swing was in use non-stop. As soon as one child got off, another jumped on.

There were numerous favorite moments: Cassie, our granddaughter, kept pumping until she made it all the way up to the rafters. I especially like the exuberant photo of Cassie flying all the way up because none of the other family members are paying attention. It’s just Cassie having fun, as usual.

The kids invented many variations: swinging standing up, swinging duo—Cassie and her cousin, Myles—and they even tied a favorite stuffed bear to the swing!

It's curious that other home-owners with high ceilings rarely install a swing.  They cost next to nothing--a chain, a wooden seat--and they furnish endless entertainment and recreation.  So much more fun than than just another chair or couch.  Don't you think?

Breakfast at Little Bear Ranch

This past week my husband’s family was visiting from Connecticut and California, and at breakfast it turned out that we had no bread for toast. Cassie, our granddaughter, offered to make pancakes.

Luckily, I happened to have a box of Snoqualmie Falls Lodge Old Fashioned Pancake Mix in the pantry. (You just add water.) Since Cassie thought it would be fun to make the pancakes in different shapes, I got out the cookie cutters we use at Christmas for sugar cookies.

In honor of Little Bear Ranch—the name’s a joke name because the bear in our kitchen wasn’t so little and it’s not a ranch--Cassie wanted to start with a bear. She placed the bear cookie cutter in the center of the sizzling hot frying pan and ladled the pancake mix directly into the cookie cutter. Viola! It worked. At Little Bear Ranch we had little bear pancakes.

And moose pancakes. And star pancakes.

It made for a fun, memorable breakfast. And, as our daughter-in-law, Emily said, “All because we didn’t have toast."

Hiking Tobacco Root Mountain--Montana

This morning at 8 am we set off from Ruby Springs for a hike. (photo--Chuck, grandson, jo, your blogger, and Emily, daughter-in-law.). With our guide, Dave Frederick, we drove 8 miles to Sheridan, and then another 15 miles on a bumpy, dirt road to Branham Lakes Campground in the Beaverhead National Forest.

None of us had a clue what to expect, including, it turns out, our guide. We certainly never expected to be hiking through snow banks 3-4 feet deep! We hiked for about 1 1/2 hours, 3 miles, up to an altitude of almost 9,500 feet.

At the peak, where we had a picnic, it was an astonishing world-class sight. We could see 2 lakes--Bell Lake and Branham Lake--plus multiple snow-covered mountain ranges, including the Rubies, the Pioneers, the Gravelly Range, and the Madison. We could see mountains in Idaho!

It was a perfect hiking day--sunny, brisk, windy. In the total time we hiked we did not encounter another person. It was one of those hiking experiences that will go down as a best of the best.

Tobacco Root Mountain Range

Summer Begins!

Summer in Montana includes fly-fishing.

This morning we left Ruby Springs and put in at Hell's Canyon on the Jefferson River near Twin Bridges. Our guide, Jason Carrico, said I was only allowed to reveal this super fishing location because no one who reads my blog is a fisherman. Shhhh...We saw only one other boat on the river the entire day. A huge contrast to the crowds we usually encounter on the Yellowstone.

Ed fishes--the photo captures his first catch of the morning--a 17" brown trout. Catch and release. And I float. While Ed was fishing I was enjoying a sunny, idyllic day on the river, the Tobacco Roots Mountain in the background with a dusting of snow still in their saddles. I was floating and reading Strangers Drowning about do-guidera. A fantastic, interesting book that has nothing to do with Montana and fishing.

We are on a fishing adventure with our Warren family of 12. But the only other family sharing our river were Chuck, 14, and Finn, 12.

jogiese.com

Saturday Farmer's Market

The Bozeman Farmer’s Market opened today for the season.

Two of my favorite growers, Paula (pictured) and Ken Weinacht with West Valley Garden, were back. From their booth I picked up gorgeous kale, beautiful spinach, and mixed lettuce. They said their "freaky carrots" will be available in a few weeks.

From the seniors who embroider—the RSVP Handcrafters—I snagged a pair of exquisite, vintage-looking pillowcases. And the Springdale Colony of Hutterites from White Sulphur Springs had mason jars of Home Grown Pickled Beets and Home Grown Pickled Green Beans. They make a delicious and healthy cool summer appetizer.

There was a festive, friendly atmosphere at the Market. It was so much fun. I can hardly to wait to bring our summer guests.

http://jogiese.com

What Difference a Day Makes

Yesterday was gloriously sunny and this morning was wet and rainy. But as a friend says, I love when it rains in Montana.

The rains make everything glisten, and the landscape is so lush you could lick it.

I do my morning walk dressed in a slicker with an umbrella and rain hat, and it doesn’t diminish my pleasure.

Hiking and Healing

Yesterday morning my husband, Ed, and I made our first summer hike to a favorite waterfall destination—Grotto Falls in Hyalite Canyon just outside of Bozeman. The green forest aroma combined with the freshness of the rushing waters made me feel restored, refreshed, relaxed. Just plain happy!

We used to call this a “hike,” but now we’re in such good shape it felt more like an easy, relaxing stroll. Which brings me to the heart of this piece. In the past few days we’ve had three good friends who are in the hospital. Three friends who are not hiking to gorgeous waterfalls with restorative powers. My dear friend, Carolyn See, is recovering from hip surgery in Santa Monica. I wish I could deliver a dose of the clean, healthy green mountain air directly to her room.

In a recent piece in The New Yorker "How Trees Calm Us Down," Alex Hutchinson writes about a researcher who noticed a curious pattern among patients who were recovering from gallbladder surgery at a hospital in Pennsylvania. Those who had been given rooms overlooking a small stand of trees were being discharged almost a day sooner than those in rooms whose windows faced a wall.

Other studies have shown that even looking at a picture of nature can be restorative, can lift one’s mood, and can raise one’s score on a test. I’m not sure about all of that, but I am sure that this image of “our” waterfall makes me happy, and maybe you’ll appreciate and enjoy it, too.

Day 14--The Final Leg--Home!

Hope and Grace

Monday, April 25, we leave Los Olivos at 9:20, and pull into our driveway at 11:45 AM. Eddie’s West Coast Birthday Road Trip has lasted for 14 days, 2,363 miles!

"Are we still friends?” I say to Ed as we drive south on PCH into Malibu.

“Definitely,” he says.

“Did you like your Birthday Road Trip?”

“Yes. It’s something I always dreamed of doing. I get to check it off the list.”

At home, I take out the bottle of wine he bought us last night in Los Olivos. He says he was attracted to it because it’s the same vintner that produced the terrific wine he was enjoying at dinner. On the other hand, I take it personally. The label says Hope and Grace. A lovely way to return Home.