There were four different drumming circles at the Powwow, two from the north and two from the south. Each group beat on a single drum, and they make a vast sound.
Each of these drummers sprinkled a little soil on their drum during the prayers.
About half of this group dressed in regalia,
and nearly all of these men wore black sunglasses (bet they were from the south).
I love the baseball caps. The drums and chanting were the only music, and at times it filled all the available space; other times it was a backdrop.
Part of the Powwow is a meditation on what it is to be a man. Some of the dances are modified war dances performed by young braves … teenaged boys… by young men.
They are so beautiful it could break your heart.
And as they dance, you can see that the First Nations survived.
There were some little kids in full regalia at the powwow. This toddler with the green bandana was the youngest dancer I saw.
I think he was a turtle.
Kids needed help getting dressed, but then they were on their own,
off on adventure.
Even in the smallest sizes, some of the regalia were very old and precious.
Here girls are admiring a friend’s finery, but
mostly the kid’s outfits seemed like a second skin,
like they’d been wearing it all their lives.
Here are three boys playing gameboy before the dancing,
and here’s a little girl welcoming spring.
After the dancing, a Dad and his boy were resting in the bleachers. He asked his son, Don’t you think this is a nice day?
I’m eavesdropping, I’m taking pictures that people aren’t aware of with a zoom lens, and I’m Anglo. I apologize.
The 45th Annual Hozhoni Days Powwow took place last week, in the gym of Fort Lewis College. There were participants from 43 Nations.
Dancing is serious business at the Powwow.
See how the men look inward as they dance?
The beat of the drums is so loud that your diaphragm vibrates, and these boys are awhirl.
The little girls dance like deer with their feet barely touching the ground,
and this grandmother is my favorite, dancing so her fringes sway like water.
My mother and I went to an exhibit up at the college of crochet art by Brigitta Bjerke. She’s originally Swedish, lives in New Mexico, and happened to be at the gallery when we were there. These are dresses she made in the wild days
back when she was hanging out with Bob Weir, Roger Daltrey, Eric Clapton and Jimmy Cliff.
Here are three perfect bathing suits and a scarf that looks like a pair of feet.
Isn’t this bikini a classic?
Here’s a rock star cape,
a jungle suit,
and a dream of love, with that nice wooden fence around the bed and a pot of tulips upon it.
Brigitta worked on costume design for movies long after she crocheted this portrait of Queen Elizabeth. Remember those great costumes in Dances with Wolves ? She helped put those together.
The older I get the easier it is to see that great souls walk among us, masquerading as human beings.
An elk herd was right by the side of the road. I got out of the car, and they bunched together
and ran to the next field, over a fence. They’re very good jumpers.
They don’t break stride for a five foot fence.
They seem to rise and fall in a seamless motion.
Three different elk here, with the same vertical motion.
Out of the eight hooves in this photo, there is one on the ground.
Most of these elk are airborne as well. When I was taking Physics in college, I happened to sit next to my professor during a performance of a troupe of Chinese acrobats. He liked them. “They really know their center of gravity,” he said. (I bet he’d like these elk too.)
We’re starting to get a steady stream of fancy samples from distributors.
This is one of the best ever: fig, fennel and almond chocolate. It’s a tidbit that is beyond beyond. I was wishing I didn’t have to share it.
tidbit
–noun
| 1. |
a delicate bit or morsel of food. |
| 2. |
a choice or pleasing bit of anything, as news or gossip. |
There’s no agreement on the word origin: Random House Dictionary 2009 claims it’s from 1630–40; tide 1 (in sense “feast day”) + bit 2 
while the American Heritage Dictionary 2006 writes “Perhaps obsolete and dialectal tid, tender + bit1. ”
Alec Guiness wrote a tidbit quote: “The book is chock-full of colorful tidbits about theater and theater people”.
A British tidbit is a titbit. (really!) Titbits in the pantry sound bodacious to me, but I’m American. A German tidbit is a straightforward Leckerbissen, literally “delicious bite”.
And if you ever see a bar of that fig, fennel and almond chocolate, get more than one (I wish I had).
My mother is here visiting, so I took her to Telluride.
Most of the snow is gone, but even so the town simply reeks of charm.
Even the former prostitute row is charming.
A friend bought a old Victorian in downtown Telluride for $17,000 in the late 70s, and sold it for $80,000. Last year, that house went for $2.4 million. Not this exact one, but much like it. Telluride specializes in expensive little Victorians
amidst some very big mountains.
The computer system is nearly installed;
the shelving is cleaned and nearly assembled;
some of the refrigeration is actually installed, and we’ve acquired a few new display cases and freezers (new to us, that is);
the coffee bar is built;
and the last fancy piece of painting is done: Bob did the metal-look paint around the big cooler. We’re hoping to open mid-April.
I have a full set of photographs on how to make this shade
which is nice when it’s down
but ugly when it’s up.
This is a National Geographic photo. I didn’t mean to make a shade like a National Geographic bosom, but it came out very, very droopy.
I asked Bob if he noticed that the guestroom curtain was really ugly, and he said, Yes, but I didn’t think I needed to say anything about it. (I’ll remake it someday, but not today.)
I had my last day of skiing today, and it was a fine day.
I ski with Joanne nearly every Thursday. We do seven runs, never less and rarely more. Joanne was an exercise professor for 25 years, and took early retirement. She loves to exercise. She has to make herself not workout. (Me, I never had that problem.) For nearly five years we’ve done a weekly five-mile loop in the summer, or 7 runs downhill in the winter; I like moguls, she skis telemark with the loose heel.
Ski season stops for me as soon as the snow gets sticky spots in it… which was this week (Sam will ski for another 3 weeks, but I had a high speed crash and 28 stitches in my face two years ago this week, so I’m wary of spring conditions). It takes a lot of work to get to a mountaintop in the summer, so Goodbye to the easy eagle’s view for another year.
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