The Artist Date is a dream-child of Julia Cameron. We’ve discussed her book, The Artist’s Way, and highly recommend both the book and the weekly date. It can be life-changing. It can open your creativity like nothing else. This week, we’re riding a Rockhopper.
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Wild-caught Alaskan cod is five bucks a pound, today only, so I ride my Specialized Rockhopper two and a half miles to Safeway, downhill all the way. I’m glad I bought the new bike seat last summer—some splurges are worth it.
I pass the green street signs and wonder who named them, and why. Silent Rain. Sweetwater. Loco Pony. Especially perplexing is White Buffalo. Who ever sees white buffalo? And then I come to the intersection of White Buffalo and Pale Moon. Aha.
At the corner of Rockrimmon and Flying W Ranch Road, I watch a mountain biker pass me and go up these impossibly steep rocks to Ute Valley Park, a popular spot for advanced mountain bikers. But since I consider going up a curb technically difficult, I stay on the road.
I whiz down Flying W (but here the street name changes to Vindicator—who named that?), past Owl Ridge and Bison Ridge Roads, past Eagleview Middle School. The bike lane is narrow here, and some cars pass me too closely. One comes so close I can tell its color (indigo), though I’m concentrating on the road.
At the store, I pull the U-lock from my backpack and lock my Rockhopper to the railing near the metal patio furniture where I’ve seen Safeway employees take breaks. At the seafood counter I order four pieces of fish. It comes to 1.7 pounds. My son will cook it for dinner tonight, with brown rice and a mango-macadamia-spinach salad. We’ll use the leftover dressing I made for the catering gig I had a couple of months ago. In the frozen seafood section I grab a box of applewood-maple salmon already prepared. Then I head to the bakery and pick out a loaf of jalapeño foccacia. These last two items are for the neighbors who had their baby not long after midnight. They’re calling him Sam.
Going back up Vindicator with foccacia and frozen fish in my backpack, I pedal slowly on a low gear. It’s hard biking uphill, my quadriceps tell me. The cars are still too close.
A crowd is gathered at the corner of Centennial and Vindicator. They’re pointing to the hills. What are they looking at?
As soon as I see it, the awe makes my breathing shallower, faster. Great Horned Owls in the tree across the street. They’re still to young to fly, but they are huge. Just in time for Mother’s Day, I think.
The crowd is growing. I see one tripod, two huge zoom lenses like only professional photographers use, one telescope. Two police cars are parked across the street, “Safeguarding our community as our family” printed on the sides. To protect the young owls from disrespectful gawkers, they have blocked off the area with yellow tape: Police Line Do Not Cross. I count fifteen orange cones on the road. Thirty people taking pictures.
They do captivate, those big young owls. Their tree sits against a background of blackened, bare pines on the mountain a mile behind them. The whole mountainside is black. That’s probably why the owl family nested here in the Walgreens parking lot—last summer’s wildfire burned all the trees in the wilderness.
I turn (not push) my bike pedals to go to the neighbors’, leave their food at the doorstep, and head home.
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Photo by Wildlifeshoots. Creative Commons, via Flickr. Post by Monica Sharman.
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Maureen Doallas says
“Rockhopper” is a name I don’t know but I can visualize why that bike might be given such a descriptive ID. I wonder what other names were proposed before that one was chosen.
How wonderful to see Great Horned Owls!
Monica Sharman says
Well, the higher-end model is the Stumpjumper!
L. L. Barkat says
i wonder if you felt like a bringer-of-life that day, in a small way—as one who took the time to notice where life was springing into view. 🙂
Monica Sharman says
I think the other people (who noticed before I did) were the life-bringers who prompted me to stop riding and just watch. And then, yes, I guess because I stopped, I became a bringer of life too.
L. L. Barkat says
“because I stopped”
Just thinking about that. Sometimes our life-giving actions are more about a switch, a turn, a moment, a stop.
I’m thinking how you then made another stop to leave the food on the doorstep.
Monica Sharman says
Oh, right! And one stop was planned, the other was not.
Beth Werner Lee says
That you chose to bike instead of drive.
That you chased a deal on fish at Walmart.
That you bought for a neighbor as well.
Then that you stopped to see the birds.
(Almost Make Way for Ducklings, the way the police protected.)
A new baby, and baby birds.
Giving, and receiving joy.
Then spreading it abroad.
Thank you!
Monica Sharman says
Make Way for Ducklings! Yes! (Except these policemen don’t speak with a Boston accent.) 🙂
Thanks for being here with me, friend.
davis says
these owls are managing to adapt to the changes that the fire made upon their habitat. new baby owls and a new baby in your neighborhood. how wonderful !
Monica Sharman says
So many changes after the fire. I saw a vibrant blue dragonfly in my backyard (they’ve never been there before), and a neighbor saw a moose down the street! A moose! And now, of course, these owls.
Laura says
There is so much wonderful here, Monica. I especially love thinking of your son cooking the fish. This makes me happy.
Monica Sharman says
It makes me (and him) happy too! The rule here is, the summer after 8th grade you need to cook once a week. I got the idea from friends. It works well for me, plus they leave the house knowing how to cook.