Frozen Donut
Thursday, 24 June 2010 00:00
Karen Land
Outdoors
A cold, wet Montana spring always bring back a memory - a bone-chilling one.
In the early 1990’s, I moved from Indianapolis to Missoula to attend the University of Montana. After my first winter in the west, I couldn’t wait to partake in the delights of spring in the mountains. Eventually, the daylight hours grew longer, the rain subsided, and the angry rivers calmed.
It was 80-some degrees, blue skies, and sunny the June day my friends and I rented giant rubber inner-tubes from a local gas station. Ian, David, and I strapped the awkward vessels down to the back of my little red pickup and headed to the Blackfoot River.
All three of us slathered our skin with the first sun block of the season. As I settled into my inner-tube, the blistering black rubber burned the backs of my bare legs and arms. I welcomed the sweltering midday heat - it had been a long winter.
Our friends floated this same stretch the previous day. It’ll only take a couple of hours, they told us. I was relieved by the day’s clear forecast; giant inflatable donuts don’t provide much storage space for precautionary gear.
Read more...
Anywhere USA
Thursday, 15 April 2010 00:00
Karen Land
Outdoors
When I was young, we use to drive. And drive. And drive.
My parents always took the “scenic route.” Often times as an outing, my mom and I would take a spin through the country, admiring farms and barns, woods and wildlife.
Just north of Indianapolis was horse country.
Mom wound the blue ‘69 Rebel station wagon around the twisty, narrow roads that bordered one horse farm after another. Arabians, Standardbreds, Quarter horses, Shetland ponies all grazed on the brilliant bluegrass. Fresh white fencing squared off each pasture like a picture frame. Giant dairy barns - some 50 to 100 years old - were the biggest buildings for miles. I daydreamed about all of the animals that had passed through those huge double doors. Someday, I would have my own farm nearby.
Fast forward to 2010.
I sit at a stoplight. I look up. Surrounding me and the puzzle of traffic are beige strip malls, massive box stores, parking lots.
I see a Home Depot on the left, a Lowe’s across the street. Starbucks, Costcutters, Applebee’s, Old Navy. For a few seconds I am confused - I have been on the road for 2.5 months now, driving more than 10,000 miles around the country. I panic and think twice, “Where am I? Texas, Indiana, New Jersey? It’s impossible to tell.”
Read more...
|
Texas Snowmen
Wednesday, 24 March 2010 00:00
Karen Land
Outdoors
When was the last time you made a snowman?
Last week as I drove through Georgetown, Texas in a blinding snowstorm, I wasn’t thinking about stopping to play in the snow. Actually, I was shocked, disoriented, and a little bit grumpy.
“You’ve got to be kidding me,” I said to my friend sitting in the passenger seat. “SERIOUS SNOW IN AUSTIN?”
Goosebumps covered my bare skin. I flipped the heat onto high; suddenly, my tee-shirt and cotton khakis seemed all wrong.
Read more...
The Island
Friday, 22 January 2010 21:32
Karen Land
Outdoors
 As a child, I loved watching reruns of the 60’s television comedy, “Gilligan’s Island.” The idea of becoming one of seven castaways on an uncharted, previously uninhabited island was oddly romantic to me. Of course, it was easy for me to relate to Gilligan, the bumbling and accident-prone crewman of the S.S. Minnow. But it wasn’t just one character that did it for me, it was the hodge-podge of pasts, personalities, interests and hang-ups of all the ill-fated passengers – the Skipper, Thurston Howell III, Lovey Howell, Ginger Grant, the Professor, and Mary Ann – that made the Island seem like a home.
A person can still feel alone living in a bustling city surrounded by millions of other people; when you live on an island, you don’t take your neighbors for granted, even if they are downright strange.
Read more...
|
home, I pull the heavy box from the shelf, dumping the contents across my bedspread to find my favorites.
