Love: a tribute

 

Happy Valentine's Day from the Eastern Sierra!

I'm being driven crazy by the amount of disdain expressed toward a day of love. Yes, I understand that Hallmark decided they needed to sell more greeting cards, and thus we have a huge commercial day. 

However, here in the land of no commercialism, love means a lot more than candy hearts and red lingerie. Moving to an area where life can be a bit harder physically, and simpler in terms of needs, my appreciation for the people and things changed.

And I got hitched.

Photo by Christopher Lawrence

My husband may be the most remarkable example of love I have. Not only does he cook, clean, and clean some more (yes, go ahead ladies, swoon), the amount of patience he somehow exhibits during my many rants, raves, and tears ... quite honestly makes me wonder why he's still around. Luckily he doesn't read my blog, so I have a few years before he figures that out.

Anyway, the comfort that comes from having your best friend with you for the rest of forever means love. End of exhibit A.

 

Dear Little Becca gets the next shout-out. Yes, she is in my phone as "Little Becca" even though her size is not much less than mine. I have never really had a friend that I needed, and who actually needed me, quite so much. Growing up in a house full of sisters, friends never seemed very important. But I honestly don't think I could live without this intelligent, hilarious, snarky little lady. Every girl should have a bud to have a glass (or bottle) of wine with, while simultaneously mulling over husbands, the latest piece of classical literature you've both been into, and what the hell that bitch was wearing at the bar the other night (sweatpants, probably). Love.

 

 

Max-dog and Hatchi: who wouldn't love these two crazies? We are Max's third owners, the other two may burn in hell (but thank you for giving him up so we can enjoy him!). You really MUST adopt a shelter dog, as they are the most appreciative, loving, spry animals. When my husband spends much of his summer in the mountains for work, Maxdog and I are inseparable. We walk in the morning, run in the afternoon, I read to him even. And there's the snuggling at night. He's great. 

Then there is Hatch-monster. He belongs to our roommate, but a part of the family no questions asked. With his little under bite, and funny front legs, most people look at him with crooked head. Somehow, he is the boss of Maxdog, and chooses him as a pillow more and more. The two are a strange, scraggly pair, but doesn't the picture above just melt your heart? Maybe I'm weird. But love, regardless.

Our friends. Yes, the end to the craziness looms far in the distance, and that's how I like it. Our wedding last September exemplified the support for us, and the ability to dance on broken class in bare feet in the name of a good party. Occasionally I feel overwhelmed by the amount of visitors we have at our house at any given moment, but in reality, it's lonely without everyone. (*cough* *cough* come visit, everyone! snow's good!).

 

The Eastern Sierra, finally, holds my heart in a different way. Never have I felt more comfortable, while being challenged. I stopped rock climbing when I moved here - strange - but learned the value of a naturalist education and gained a passion for birds, flowers, shrubs, flowering shrubs, geology, snowpack, and the list goes on. I now understand what John Muir was fluffily gawking over when he wrote about the Sierra. I love good ol' Johnny Muir, and the Eastern Sierra. If I knew where he was buried, I wouldn't put a candy heart on his grave today. A Jeffery pinecone, maybe. I bet he'd like that.