Monday, April 2, 2012

IDAHO, Gray Sky Country!

       The Owyhee Mountains                                        Ainslie Sheridan copyright 2012


      

        That's how it was for Jim and me when we landed in Boise, Idaho; and that's pretty much how it stayed the length of our six-day visit.  The sun made itself visible, but only occasionally.  And when it was out, it resembled a low-watt light bulb behind a gray parchment shade.  But, of course, it could have been worse:  there could have been a blizzard, or it could have been windy, raw, and really rainy.  And we did get several rainless afternoons with teasing glimpses of blue sky fading into a dusky pink sunset.  

       I hadn't slept but two hours the night before our arrival, and I am not an easy-going traveler, so there was no sleep for me on the plane.  You would think, with all the flying around I did as a naval officer, I'd be well used to air travel.  Well, I was--then.   Maybe Uncle Sam unwittingly employed a course of  "systematic desensitization" on me.  This treatment--invented by a South African psychiatrist--compels patients to face their fears.  Most people who are afraid snakes avoid any place snakes are likely to be found.  Similarly,  those afraid of dogs will tend to go where dogs are not.  Reasonable and hardly surprising.  I'm afraid of philosophy professors from Barnard College, so you will never find me anywhere near Millbank Hall.  But with systematic desensitization therapy,  if you're afraid of snakes you may wind up a with a friendly Burmese python wrapping you up like a slithering tortilla.   If you fear dogs, you may find yourself at Cesar Milan's kennel feeding his fifty dogs,  a number of whom are rehabilitated "red zone cases," i.e., they once attacked other dogs--or people. 

       As a naval ensign I, of course, had to follow orders--and when I was handed  a sheet of paper that had "Travel Orders" printed at the top--I traveled!  So, I often found myself in jets, cargo planes, P-3 Orions, and a variety of helicopters.  Perhaps I was being treated to an inadvertent  course of "systematic desensitization" by Uncle Sam.  But then again, maybe it was due to the form and nature of my travel.  I worked for two, three, and four star admirals in Japan and Hawaii and traveled with them often.  These men were aviators and seemed--and usually were--wonderfully in command of all things on the ground, under water, or flying through the air.  No plane they were on would dare tumble into the Pacific.  Another factor that I'm sure helped:  I often sat up in the cockpit with the pilots.  They were great fun, and so at ease that I was at ease,  allowing me to tolerate and sometimes even enjoy the powerful g-forces of reverse thrust when we landed on particularly short runways like those at Wake and Midway Islands.

      "Any landing you can walk away from is a good landing."  That's what the guys in the cockpit liked to say.  We did slam down hard a couple of times, but I always walked away, so these experiences were invariably "good."  There was a bit of a bump at Boise, but by my Navy peers' standards that landing was very "good,"  too.  It was only when I got to the our hotel--the Grove--that I truly crash-landed.  Though I hadn't eaten in well over eight hours, I had no interest in food.  Shut-eye was number one priority.  And that's what I got. 

        "Do you want your dinner?"  Jim had brought me some take out from his dinner with Samantha, a former student and now professor of literature at Boise State.  (Sam's program had invited Jim to give a couple of talks, hence our trip.)   I must have said no because when I next woke up it was morning, Jim was asleep, and I found Indian food in the mini fridge.  Peckish, I tried the nan but it had a walloping amount amount of butter embedded with thick garlic paste.  So I made coffee, returned to bed with my Kindle, and waited for Jim to wake.  A few hours later I was still in bed half napping, half reading.  Jim, however,  was now up and ready to explore the green way bordering the Boise River.  But it was still raining and I was still tired, so after breakfast Jim once again went out the door alone.   These collapses happen a lot when I travel.  A number of factors contribute:  fear of flying, fear of leaving my home, my farm, my animals, and, conversely, the release of temporarily not having to be responsible for my  home, my farm, my animals, and my students.  For a few days I don't need to get up every morning and take care of seven horses (ride and train four of them), as well as teach lessons.   And so in Boise I didn't.  And there was no fine weather to apply to myself as leverage.
  

       That same day, we lunched with Sam and her husband Sil in their charming home just a short distance from downtown Boise.  The previous owner had been an artist who--judging by the walls--embraced color.  Afterwards, and because it was raining lightly, Jim and I walked over to the "Basque Block" just around the corner from our hotel.  I hadn't known that in the mid-nineteenth century thousands of Basques emigrated to the United States.  Repelled by years of war on the Iberian peninsula, and attracted by the gold and land rushes, thousands of  Basques eventually settled in Idaho and became the sheepherders they had been in northern Spain and southern France. 

        Jim and I rushed past the little Basque gift shops (with their flags and red and black berets) into the Basque Museum to escape a now pelting rain.  Inside we found a  tale of yet another immigrant group who had landed at Ellis Island in search of a better life.  But the Basques were unique in one significant way.  Their language, Euskara, predates the Indo-European Romance languages--French and Spanish--which later surrounded them for centuries.   It is one of only three languages in the world with absolutely no connection to any other.  So, linguistic isolation significantly contributed to their post-immigration ethnic cohesion.

       The museum's story boards also informed us of a Basque connection with one our founding fathers.  John Adams, our second President, visited Biscay, one of the Basque regions in northern Spain, in 1779.   He was researching various forms of government that might influence the not yet fully conceived constitution of our own.  He was impressed.  In his own words:

             " . . . It is a republic; and one of the privileges they have most insisted on,  is not
        to have a king.  This extraordinary people have preserved their ancient language,  genius, 
        laws, government, and manners, without innovation, longer than any other nation of 
        Europe.  Of Celtic extraction, they once inhabited some of the finest parts of ancient Boetica;
        but their love of liberty, and unconquerable aversion to foreign servitude, made them retire, 
        when invaded and overpowered in their ancient feats, into these mountainous countries, called
        by the ancients Cantabria. . . ."

       

       There seems little doubt that the Basque style of government informed, if not directly influenced, Adams and those around him, in the creation of our own constitution in 1787.  



The Military Reservation

  


    Military Reserve Nesting Rock                                            Ainslie Sheridan copyright 2012

       

       Next morning Sam took us for a walk on the Military Reservation, so named because the military routinely conducted maneuvers there from the mid-19th to the mid-20th century.  Located just minutes on foot from Sam's charming neighborhood (yet wonderfully within walking distance of Boise center and the capitol building, too), it seems to go on forever.  There are well over 130 miles of trails.  The photo above is a rock face along the path we were walking.   A great variety of birds call this rock home.  Hawks, owls, and songbirds hatch, live, grow to mate and have their young, and die there.  Many varieties of predators and prey share the same area, but seeing all these nesting sites of so many was a clear reminder of Mother Nature's passionless method of maintaining her delicate balance.

       Beyond this wall of rock trails wind through fragrant sagebrush and eventually climb up into the mountains.  I have always loved going on long rides alone and would delight to tack up one my horses and travel for miles without seeing another human.  Sam assured me there would be cell service if something unforeseen--a grizzly, black bear, a cougar, a rattlesnake, gopher hole laming my horse, interrupted the journey.  

        I would have taken a picture of those mountains but, cloaked in the same gray weather system as we were, they were invisible.   The only difference, Sam said, was they would be having snow, not rain.

       
      Seven Ideas of Nature

       That afternoon Jim gave a talk on "Seven Ideas of Nature" to students and faculty in Environmental Studies at Boise State.  He outlined how complex the idea of Nature is, that the word means so many different things, from God's creation to evolution, to human nature, to a sense of process and ecological interaction, to flora and fauna studied by science, to the cosmos itself, and much more.  There have often been complaints that "Nature" is an inadequate word for the many ideas it stands for, but that simply seems to mean that we use it all the more, not less.  Jim was trying to explain these expanses and wrinkles with some specific examples from science, literature, philosophy, psychology, and religion. 

     That evening he and I had dinner at a Basque restaurant.  Its name, Leuka Ona, will give you an idea how different the Euskara language is.   The sea and mountains dictate Basque cuisine.  Seafood and meat--principally lamb--are its protein.  Jim and I had a delicious goat cheese, the name of which I unfortunately can't remember, and fish and lamb with accompanying vegetables and bread.  The servings were substantial, straightforward, and delicious.  When I told the owner how much I enjoyed the cooking I received a huge warm hug. 



  The Greenway and Nature Center 

  
    Along the Boise River                                                        Ainslie Sheridan copyright 2012



       The next morning Samantha, Jim, and I walked along the Greenway--25 miles of beautiful trails that flank the Boise River as it flows through the center of the city and its outskirts.  The river was high because of snow melt, but it apparently calms down during warmer months.  Here's another shot (the current was at least 10 miles per hour that day):


    Boise River                                                                      Ainslie Sheridan copyright 2012
      


       Summer days can hit one hundred degrees.  Many Boise residents take to the river with an array of floating devices, mostly inner tubes.  Apparently it's quite the bonding event in this city of 205,000.  Hundreds of friends, family, and strangers of various morphologies talk and laugh as they float for miles down the serene Boise River. 

      Next, we turned onto a trail that led into The Nature Center and found this living and ever changing exhibit:

     Boise River Rainbow Trout                                                     Ainslie Sheridan copyright 2012
    

      You are looking at a live rainbow trout in an actual underwater branch of the Boise River.  He and any of his friends who venture this way find themselves temporarily on display behind a large plexiglass panel.  

       The exhibits inside the Nature Center building are wonderful and quite the place to take children on Halloween.  There they get to see taxidermy renditions--incredibly life-like--of all the animals in Idaho that can kill and/or eat them (as well as other critters).  Here is but one:



     Poor cougar!                                                                                                                            Ainslie Sheridan 2012
  

I wonder what sort of treats the staff hand out!

      So much happened during our trip to Boise that I'll begin my next blog entry with Part Two of Boise.  Stay tuned for Birds of Prey, Henry David Thoreau (in Idaho courtesy of my husband Jim), a hot spring, McDonalds french fries, and petroglyphs.

         


Highway Update

       Here's our boy Highway with rescuer Ann Fratesi, taken last week.  He's come a long, long way:


   Ann Fratesi and Highway     
       

        This Thursday, Highway will head north by car relay to New Jersey and his new owner Tom.  I'll provide updates as soon as I hear.  Meanwhile, and once again, thanks to all of you who contributed to his medical bills.  He wouldn't be going where he's going without you.


 
Meet Rufo's Friend Tasha

       You remember Rufo, the shepherd-pit bull mix who was in the Yonkers Shelter for six years now a Massachusetts resident?  Well, Tasha is another wonderfully sweet shepherd-pit bull mix who has lived at the Yonkers shelter over five years!  And no one can understand why she has not been adopted.  My friend works with her frequently and adores her:  Tasha is sweet, and she's friendly with other dogs, too.  She is also deemed, by all who work with her, including the trainers, incredibly smart.  Please help her:  Watch this YouTube and share it with anyone you think might offer her a loving home:


 
       

       Thank you for reading The Windflower Weekly--

        Ainslie
  

              

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