FIRE!

It is cold AF in Colorado, and what do humans do when it gets cold?

WE LIGHT UP A FIRE!

A BIG OL' FIRE

To combat the chill at the orchard we set barrels between each peach and cherry tree (that's a lotta trees), fill them with wood and coal, and blast them with flame from a radical flamethrower backpack to keep them burning through the long cold night.

By the time everyone has saved their trees from frosty doom, the farmers themselves have caught a bit of a chill.  So we gather together and build a bonfire to warm our outsides, sip moonshine to warm our insides, and tell stories and dance to warm our SOULS.

Luckily we can never forget to be in awe over the glory of fire, because there are always children around to gleefully scream "DUDE! WHOA!" at the sight of a massive flame.

Song of the occasion:  Alt-J - Something Good

Work hard, chill hard.

Farm life in Colorado greeted me so warmly that it almost seemed like a trap, yet two weeks have passed and I've steadily become more amazed by this experience.

The view from Moonbird's window

 Our work at the orchard has mainly been simple tasks, like planting vegetables.  This is the kind of work that passes quickly but leaves me tired and satisfied.  I'll spend a day playing in the dirt, and when the job's done I can walk away knowing that wholesome organic deliciousness will soon be sprouting from the earth where I spent my day's energy.  We are creating FOOD, which creates ENERGY, and at the end of each workday Q and I celebrate with a massive restorative supper.

Good words from Good Times

While living the city life I think we forget certain raw feelings of respect for Nature, the sort of jealous goddess who feels she must remind us of her power as soon as she gets the chance.  After a few days of golden sunshine at the orchard we were presented with a torrent of rain which soaked through our clothes and turned the ground to quicksandish goop.  Then came the wind, then the cold, and suddenly we were working through a formidable snowstorm.

The orchard's three yaks, who normally are not especially adventurous, were inspired by the snow.  I imagine they were channeling their ancestors in the mountains of Tibet when they pushed over a fence and escaped their pasture, and surely those shaggy beasts of the Himalayas would tip their yak hats to the bravery of these three domestic individuals who broke free and then went about grazing in neighboring fields.

The snow continued to blow in mercilessly as we wrangled the escapees, and by the time we got them back in their pasture the orchard was fully covered in fluffy white coldness.  The year's apricot crop was annihilated in that freeze.

SNOW!

The unfortunate apricots

On a day like that it's easy to appreciate the power of nature, and to respect the farmers who make their living this way.  Other days it's all about basking in the simplicity of a direct relationship with the land.  The family hosting us and the community here are masters of working hard and chilling hard, and I am remembering that the harder I work, the more satisfying my supper will be.

Little peepers

Sensei Queej

Good beer and great company

Song of the occasion: Wait So Long - Trampled by Turtles

Zoola to Kali to Billings to Denver to Hotchkiss

On the morning that we left Missoula I woke up with a brain-throbbing sickness, so our grand exit from that beloved home base consisted mainly of Q haphazardly loading everything we own into the Rambler while I laid around groaning and barfing.  We made it to Kalispell without incident (a misleadingly smooth maiden voyage for the Rambler) and spent two days preparing for blastoff with the help of my family, then set out for Billings.

Our mechanical trouble began with a literal bang when a bolt fell out of the Rambler's alternator on I-90.  At the time, being not especially mechanically-minded, Q and I were clueless and slightly terrified, but we made it to Billings while the Rambler quietly died around us.  She's not a high-tech vehicle, but apparently she's capable of running on nothing but human hope.  In Billings we were once again fed and aided by my family, re-bolted the alternator, and headed south.

The Rambler started out strong but started to die again in the middle of Wyoming, AKA the worst place imaginable for a Rambler to be stranded.  Between the two of us we again supplied her with enough Venusian juju to make it to Casper, where we spent our first night in an RV park.  From a distance it was a muddy, dreary parking lot, but from our perspective we had found a milk-and-honey wonderland complete with electricity, showers, and abundant wi-fi.  In the morning we searched fruitlessly for an available mechanic, finally ending up fully broken down in Casper.  Realizing that we'd have to save ourselves, Q engaged his Man Mode and spliced our alternator's broken wires together, successfully reviving the Rambler and the morale of her occupants.  With bellies full of Casper's finest fast food, we hightailed to Denver.

Lilbird calls shotgun sometimes

Moony's pretty good at driving

We spent two days in Denver sliding down rainbows (as Jack perfectly worded it) with a cocktail of friends, music, Game of Thrones, coffee, booze, bus rides, and city food.  Our humble housecar showed no sign of distress until we were trying to leave Denver (maybe she didn't want to leave?), when our fuel pump gave out and left us barely puttering through a very fast-paced city.  We were pulling into a Jiffy Lube when we felt the too familiar dying breath of the Rambler.

As cosmic luck would have it, this particular Jiffy Lube was run by a guardian angel who towed us off the sidewalk and explained to us exactly what was wrong and how it could be fixed, although as part of the franchise's code he was not allowed to actually help us replace the broken fuel pump.  He gave Q a uniform to wear for the messy affair and, like a manlier and dirtier version of Cinderella's glass slipper, Q was instantly transformed into a mechanic capable of replacing fuel pumps and having gas spill on his face without complaining about it.

Success!

The next day we triumphantly left Denver, scaled several treacherous mountain passes, and arrived finally at Delicious Orchards in Hotchkiss, CO.  It's an amazing fairytale land which I will discuss much more in later posts, but for now the best I have is pictures of a few of the orchard's friendly critter inhabitants:

Lego, the sensitive dingo

 

Yackity Yaks

And kitty cats!

Song of the occasion: Sliding Down Rainbows (The Great Mundane remix) - Gumar and His Magical Midi Band