-microwave = very shiny ski outfit (check out microwaves of Aspen Instagram account for a good laugh
-6-pack is not only the showing of abdominal muscles, but a chair lift that holds 6 people
A blizzard was raging, it flew down from the pass.
In hopes all the elves soon would be there.
And cameras were at the ready to capture every smile.
And drinks from moxie bar were ready for a cold night’s fix.
While the game room sat waiting for the sporty and tough.
Were about to clock-out after completing our last roun’.
I sprinted up the stairs to see what was the matter.
And nearly choked on the frosty and oh so frigid air.
Softly lit the plaza, adding a sparkle to my skis.
But a gleaming snowcat piled high with ski gear.
When they meet with the jet stream, mount up to the sky.
And out jumped St. Nick as though he were a kid.
The laughing and giggling of that chubby ski bum.
Down the moguls came St. Nick, hardly touching the ground.
All in great effort to keep out the snow.
And a cookie or two stuffed deep in his pack.
Despite being masked up, he was the farthest from scary.
His aprĆØs ski beverage, surely a martini.
The result of too much beer and giving up tele.
And I clapped and I “whooped” in spite of myself.
Told me he was jonesing to get out and shred.
And soon he was schussing with incredible skill.
As he navigated the terrain of this magical place.
And found powder pillows near the frozen cascades.
And he sailed high in the air, zooming towards space.
The company Elisha works for, Wildflower Bread Co, is doing a a Christmas competition for employees where they could either do a short video or a short story. I decided I'd write the Night Before Christmas poem for her to enter into the competition. We'll have to see how that goes! She did make a few edits to this poem as she obviously knows her work better than I do, but I don't have that version, so this is the one you'll get, and you'll have to ask her how she changed it.
A few bits of info:
Jimmy Johns is the sandwich shop right next door. That chain has the tagline "So fast you'll freak". Elisha worked for them in Gainesville and really disliked the company
Eat, Sip, and Enjoy is the tagline for Wildflower
'Twas the night before Christmas, when all thro' Wildflower,
No creature was stirring, not at this hour!
The tables were cleaned with the greatest of care,
Because smiling customers soon would be there;
Sandwich lovers tossed and turned in their bed
Due to growling stomachs anxious for bread
And Mama in her seat, and I driving the car,
Had just tuned the radio to soothing guitar.
When out by the mall there arose such a clatter,
I unbuckled my seatbelt to see what was the matter.
Away from the car, I sprinted with speed,
Reaching the sidewalk like a galloping steed.
City lights twinkling across the valley that night
Silhouetted the mountains like the dawn of firstlight
When, what to my wondering eyes should appear,
But a van full of flowers and wheat for a year.
With a little ole baker, and shoes that did jingle
I knew in a moment it must be Kris Kringle
Faster than jimmy johns, the sandwiches he made
Calling them out as if on parade
“Now! Rueben, now! ham, now! turkey and brie
On! Triple Club, on! Tuna, on! yummy BLT”
“From the back of the oven to the top of the plate
Get them while they’re hot, they’re more than first rate”
As I peered in the store, and was hiding my face,
Out the kitchen came Kringle with elegance and grace
He was dress'd in an apron, clean from a shower
And his clothes were all covered in spices and flour;
A garden of fresh vegetables he held tight in his hand
And he looked like a farmer giving thanks to the land
His eyes - how they smiled! his humming how sweet,
I knew right that instant, he was making a treat.
His droll little mouth was smiling with glee,
From tasting his creation, Would he share it with me?
A baker’s hat he placed back on his head
And excitement filled me as I thought of the bread
The stem of a wildflower he held tight in his teeth,
An accessory he had surely plucked from our wreath
He had a cute face, but was verging on plump
And he shook as a he danced, especially his rump
His baking was magic, a right jolly old elf,
And my mouth began to water in spite of myself
A wink of his eye and a last taste of the bread
Soon gave me to know I had nothing to dread.
He whistled a Christmas tune and continued his job,
Adding frosting to carrot cake without being a slob
Leaving cheer in the tip jar, he gave a slight wave
And left whence he’d entered, a move rather brave
He sprung to his van, high-fiving each wildflower
And drove towards the city, soon obscured by a tower
But I heard him exclaim to the sleeping hoi palloi
[or But I heard him exclaim, in a voice rather coy]
Happy Christmas to all; Eat, sip and enjoy.
Seems like every year I made an adaptation of Clement Clarke Moore's "About the Night Before Christmas" poem. This year was no different. I wrote it based on field work with Arizona Game and Fish and modeled the St. Nick character off of my colleague, and friend, Chad.
A few things to help out the understanding:
-the holes are caused by collapsed burrows from burrowing animals. Real ankle breakers
-Teddy Bear Cholla is a cactus, that is most certainly not cuddly
-Haboob is a crazy dust storm that AZ sometimes gets. Google image search it. It's pretty wild
-We do a lot of work on military installations as they own lots of property and are required to protect a certain amount. Thus we are privy to a lot of crazy military training, including jets flying fast and low over us
-we use flashlights to search for tortoises and snakes in burrows and caves
-blue gloves references nitrile gloves. We use them while handling tortoises. A nasty respiratory disease is affecting tortoises that can be passed by handling, so we take careful precautions
-garmin is a GPS brand
-a snake stick is a tool we use to both capture snakes and pull tortoises out of deep burrows.
-Gopherus morafkaii is the latin nomenclature (scientific name) for the endangered Sonoran Desert Tortoise
-Scutes are the enlarged scales that are on the tortoise shell.
-We put "license plates" on the back of tortoises to ID them later in order to do population modeling. It's basically a small square of white-out on the back scute, with a sharpie number. Then we add epoxy to it to make it last.
-Chad drinks this V8 drink with caffeine like it was candy.
-Conserve and Protect is the AZGFD motto and is written on the side of our trucks
'Twas the night before Christmas, when all thro' A-Z,
Nothing was stirring, save for quail by a tree.
Funnel traps were set by the river with care
In hopes that gartersnakes soon would be there;
Kit foxes were nestled all snug in their burrow,
Undiscovered by elves, except the most thorough,
And Sky with his sunshirt, and I a camelback,
Returned from the field after a scratchy bushwhack.
When out on the sand there arose such a clatter,
I sprang from my cot to see what was the matter.
Away to a wash I scurried in a sweat
Tripping on holes that posed quite a threat.
The moon on the spines of teddy bear cholla
Glowed like Christmas lights on a giant Sequoia.
When, what to my sunburned eyes should appear,
But a giant Ford truck, and eight techs full o’ cheer,
With a seasoned leader, so smart and so rad,
I knew in a moment it must be Sir Chad.
He measured the air temp and humidity too;
Then lined up his transect, whispering “I’ll find you.”
Gazing ahead, he prepared for the trek
And he whistled and hollered, to each bright-eyed tech:
"Now! Hailey, now! Trent, now! T-rod, and Jed,
"On! Julie, on! Alexa, on! Samuel and Deb;”
“Check the deepest cave! Climb the steepest slope!”
“Check every inch, don’t be a dope!’
As dry dust before the wild haboob does fly,
And temperatures climb up higher than high;
So up to the ridge-line the techs did climb,
Checking nook and cranny and taking their time.
Despite sonic booms from the zooming air force
I heard the techs crunching through a field of quartz.
As I switched off my light, and was turning around,
Down a scree field slid Chad barely touching the ground:
He was dress'd in UPF, from his head to his toe,
His clothes were all faded; but no skin did it show;
A tortoise processing kit was buried deep in his pack,
And he reached for blue gloves stored next to his snack.
His eyes - how they squinted! his beard how grizzly,
Sweat dripping off his forehead could be described as drizzly;
His brimmed hat was secured tight to his chin,
But the shadow it cast couldn’t hide his wide grin;
The bite valve of his cameblack he held tight in his lips,
Staying hydrated, a battle, you can’t win with sips.
He had a small garmin and a sturdy snake stick
That clanked on rocks like a shiny ore pick.
He was fit and athletic, a right jolly r’searcher,
And I laugh'd when I saw him-- a true deserty creature;
A wink of his eye and a quick lil wave
Told me Gopherus morafkai had been found in a cave.
Reaching into the burrow, he proceeded with quickness,
Counting the scutes; and checking the fitness.
As he blew the last bit of epoxy paint dry
He cursed the damn drought as he looked at the sky.
A large cactus spine he removed from his rear,
Tortured by thoughts of an icy cold beer.
Slowly he rose from the hot, dusty ground,
And headed to the truck with a leap and a bound.
He chugged a V8, as he sat in AC
The dust from the trucks obscuring his glee;
But I heard him exclaim, ere he rounded a curve,
“Happy Christmas to all, protect and conserve.”
As you might know, I write a version 'A Visit from St. Nicholas' every year based on where I live, so this year I wrote it based on the SAIL project in Gothic at the Rocky Mountain Biological Lab.
‘Twas the night before Christmas when all through RMBL (rumble)
Instruments were whirring; a rather delightful ensemble.
Radiometers all pointed straight to the air
Recently cleaned by a tech with great care
The cimel was placed in park for the night
While lidars lit the snow with a vivid green light
And Frank in his puffy and I on my skis
Had once again seen the MWR freeze.
When down at the site there arose such a clatter
I logged onto bomgar to see what was the matter
Through the VMs I scrolled with great terror
Checking the data, looking for error.
The stars silhouetting the mountains aroun’
Were the only lights in the slumbering town.
When what to my frosty eyes should appear
But a figure on skis and 8 operators full o’ cheer.
With a quick little shuffle that could take him quite far,
I knew in an instant that it must be billy barr.
Toting tools and kimwipes; the technicians they came
And he whistled, and shouted, and called them by name;
“Now Thomas! Now Michael! Now Juarez and Wessley!
“On Anna! On Heath! On Bilberry and Maggie!
Down to Kettle Ponds! Up to the AOS
Get your jobs done with the greatest finesse!”
As persistent slabs that after a heavy snow do slide
Or fully waxed skis in an effortless glide
So down to the site the technicians they flew
Armed with ethanol, wrenches, and a smidgen of glue
Over my shoulder a weather balloon took flight
And it soon disappeared into the black of night
Snowcams were flashing as the flakes fell faster
The generator was primed to avoid a disaster
And then in a twinkling I saw from the tower
Each skyrad dome shaded, even at this hour
As I cycled the MET and was turning around
Down through the trees came billy, like a young powderhound
He was dressed in old goretex from his boots to his hood
And I saw specks of bark from chopping up wood
Tins full of chocolate were buried deep in his bag
Just below his shovel and an old oily rag
His eyes were hidden behind an old pair of sunglasses
His cheeks showed no sign of frostbite, they were smooth as molasses
His warm greeting came came as clear as a bell
And the beard on his face indicated he had stories to tell
A field notebook he grasped tight in his hand
For denoting the species who lived on this land
He had a thin face and no hint of a belly
Despite watching movies produced way out in Delhi.
He was wiry and tough, a true weathered mountain man
And I whistled to myself from atop a buried sedan.
A friendly mittened wave and a cheerful greeting
Soon gave me to know his stove was still heating
He grabbed a few tools and went straight to his work
Measuring the snow he then turned with a jerk
And clipping into his bindings, he turned for the trail
His long-term records quite complimentary to SAIL
Covered in snow he could be mistaken for a wizard
As he quickly disappeared into the oncoming blizzard
But I heard him exclaim, ere he skied out of sight
These data are important, let’s get this done right!
Every year I try to write a version of the poem "A Visit from St. Nicholas" that relates to something I did that year. This year I did it in relation to the CHESS (Colorado Headwaters Ecological Headwaters Spectroscopy Study) Campaign that I was part of this summer.
‘Twas the night before Christmas when all through RMBL (rumble)
The scanners were whirring, a rather delightful ensemble.
Leaves were being plucked with the greatest of care
And taped to the scanners with a huff and a swear.
The samples were nestled all warm in the oven
Waiting to be massed and given some lovin’
And Piper in her hoodie and I with wide brim
Packed coolers of “ice” in a light that was dim
When out in the flowers there arose such a clatter
We sprinted from the lab to see what was the matter
We tripped over flags and a BBC crew
Before joining a circle where a hack suddenly flew
A dense haze of smoke billowing in the air
Made us wonder aloud how our lidar would fare.
When what to my blurry eyes should appear
But a zooming twin otter and 8 CHESSers full o’ cheer
Pointing to the plane was a man clever in tech,
And I knew in a moment it must be Dr. Breck.
Leaving the hack circle his field team came
And he whistled, and shouted, and called then by name
“Now, Jack! now, Sophia! now B-rad and Bayden!
On, Dre! on, Yahaira! on, C-ass and Reagan!
Go out to the meadows and into the trees
I want percent cover, but watch out for bees!”
As clouds that with afternoon heat do rise
When they meet with mountains bring a thunderous surprise
So up to the field site the team did climb
With packs full of clippers and an eye on the time
Then, in a twinkling, I laid down quadrats
And Amanda with an ipad entered the stats.
Species were named with a yell and a whistle
And packed into bags, even the thistle.
As I placed a flag and was turning around
Through the Veratrum came Ian with an elegant bound
He was dressed for the sun from his head to his toe
His clothes were all faded, but no skin did he show.
A heavy starlink he had lashed to his pack
Even in the woods, communication did not lack.
His eyes–how they twinkled! His dimples, how merry!
Such a contrast to Ribes, a shrub that was scary!
His mouth did not quiver as he keyed the mic
“I’ve brought hot cheetos to fuel this here hike”
The cap of a sharpie he held tight between his lips
As he wrote on trait bags and dispensed ID tips
His face full of focus as he held the field spec
But one eye scanned for bears for just a quick sec.
He was trim and thin, a right mountain PI
And I saluted when I saw him, nearly spilling my chai
A quick safety brief and a look up ahead,
Soon gave me to know I had nothing to dread.
He checked quicklook imagery, then went straight to his work
His drone Bruce was seen flying up towards a cirque.
After setting a transect for Bruce to follow,
He downed his last electrolytes with a powerful swallow
He sprang to the suburban, to the undergrads gave a whistle,
And down the dirt road they shot like a missile.
But I got a whatsapp in the middle of the night–
“Happy Christmas to all and we are GO for flight!”
Poem I wrote the day we were driving to Cape Town. I read it at our going away dinner. The poem is based on Dr. Seuss’ “Oh the Places You’ll Go”
Congratulations!
Today is your day.
You're off on Florence!
You're off and away!
With banner flip-flapping,
you'll soon be riding high!
Ready for anything under the sky.
Ready because you're always up for a try
You have gear in your bag.
You have charge on your phone.
And maybe a slight tear
As you say 'bye' to home.
You've joined up with Drago. And whether you know it or not,
Thomas will make sure you're up before a quarter to not.
You'll be given some tasks, do them with care.
About some you will say,
"I'd rather drink the beer over there."
With your hands full of dishes and your arms going flippity flap,
You can't hardly wait for your next on board nap.
And you may quickly find that
Your mat is too thin
In that case, of course,
It's on the road again!
It's opener there
in the wide open air.
Out there things can happen
and frequently do
to people as adventurous
and willing as you.
And then things start to happen,
don't worry. Don't stew.
Just go right along.
You'll start happening too.
OH!
THE PLACES YOU'LL GO!
You'll be on your way up!
You'll be seeing great sights!
You'll spot the big five
But suffer bug bites.
You won't lag behind,
As Denford keeps you well fed
Sounds in the night may have you running for bed.
You'll pass border after border,
With visas galore,
Be sure to set up your tent far from a snore
Wherever you drive, you will witness great things
Wherever you go, you'll be so happy you sing.
Except when you don't.
Because, sometimes, you won't.
I'm sorry to say so
but, sadly, it's true
that Bang-ups
and Hang-ups
can happen to you.
You can get diarrhea
Or a thorn in your toe
Your tent might rip
And you just don't know
And when you're in a Slump,
you're not in for much fun.
Un-slumping yourself
is not easily done.
But Helen and Tom
will fix you right up
And the chances are, then,
you'll be out of that Slump.
You might come to a place where the streets are not marked.
Some windows are lighted. But mostly they're darked.
A place you could strain the alternator and stick a tire
But do not worry, Adam will get you outta the quagmire.
Trusty Florence will continue
And you'll start in to race
down long wiggled roads at a break-necking pace
and grind on for miles cross weirdish wild space,
headed, you hope, toward a most beautiful place.
The soul-filling place...
A place where locals love to smile
Where the vista stretches a mile
A place where sunsets glow
And wildebeest migrate to and fro
A life-changing place...
The top of a peak that challenged your grit
A sand dune that points out you're not so fit
A Savannah where herds of antelope roam
Aquamarine water that sparkle and foam
A desert with stars that shine so bright
A canyon you peer at from a dizzying height
Oh, the places you'll go! There is fun to be done!
There is food to be eaten
There are tours to be run
And the magical things you can do with your time
Will provide memories far superior to this rhyme.
Except when they don't
Because, sometimes they won't.
I'm afraid that some times
Things will go wrong
Things so unexpected
That you'll stop humming your song
And when things go wrong, there's a very good chance
you'll meet things that scare you right out of your pants.
There are some, down the road between hither and yon,
that can scare you so much you won't want to go on.
But on you will go
though the weather be foul.
On you will go
though lions do prowl.
On you will go
though the hungry hyenas howl.
Onward up many
a frightening creek,
though your arms may get sore
and your sneakers may leak.
On and on you will travel,
And I know you'll go far
and face up to your problems
whatever they are.
You'll get mixed up, of course,
as you already know.
You'll get mixed up
with many strange tongues as you go.
But remember when you step off of the truck
To smile and to wave
Grab water and TP
But mostly just behave
For the dragoman crew will have your back
Even if you go careening off track
And will you succeed?
Yes! You will, indeed!
(98 and 3/4 percent guaranteed.)
So...
be your name Lewis or Lucy or Luti
or Mordecai Ali Van Allen diFrutti,
You're off to Great Places!
Today is your day!
Your journey is waiting.
So...get on your way!
