1000 Steps

A 1000 Steps

According to urban folklore, the mythical "Thousand Steps" cemetery is one of the most haunted places in Spokane. More than one local blog has made fantastical claims of ghostly encounters near the abandoned stairway. The place captured my attention about a year ago when my sister encouraged me to write about it in my blog.

I wrote the blog as a simple matter of curiosity, perhaps the way a social scientist observes a cultural phenomenon. To my surprise, my 1,000 Step blog generated more interest than any other post. At least once a day, one or two people find my blog as a result of a Google search for the cemetery.

Earlier today I returned for another chance to photograph this unusual place. In most ways, it fails to measure up to the hype. Instead of a thousand steps, I only counted fifty two. And in spite of what anyone might believe about ghosts, the only evidence of spirits I found were the empty bottles of liquor left behind by presumably flesh-and-bone humans.

However, in my own way, I took an interest in the place because of its aesthetic appeal. I'm fascinated by the remains of abandoned structures and recently created "ruins." These ghosts dwell only in the shadowy beauty of human memory.

Quiet

What is the fascination with "haunted" places? I went to the cemetery hoping for a spooky experience, and instead I found myself taken by the beauty and calm. No ghosts, just quiet stillness.

Kirk

An old friend visited Spokane from out of town. We haven't seen each other in several years and we ended up reminiscing over when we met. How did it happen? Was it the time I went to Logan? A work-related conference? Some kind of church function? No one remembers for sure. It's all ancient history now.

Whatever the case, we enjoyed re-connecting after all this time, while the irreverence of our meeting generated just a little laughter.

And just to show my nerdy side, I brought my camera to our first meeting and forgot to take pictures, so I called him back. As a faithful blogger, I would be remiss to let this opportunity slip away. We arranged a second meeting just for the "glamour shot." Rhonda and I drove back downtown, took the pictures, laughed some more, and finally said goodnight.

Waiting

The times were all wrong; waiting with no obvious end-point. The minutes pass; boredom creeps in, followed by an outburst of hilarity. The photographs are grainy because of poor lighting. We just took them to pass the time, but I like them because they remind me of the tension immediately preceding the laughter.

We can never stay serious for too long.

Cattail Flour

I thought for sure I already finished my cattail stories, but it turns out that little plant holds a few more surprises.

After we made those little cattail people, I found some information online regarding its use as a food. To my surprise, almost every part of the plant is edible. In fact, both the pollen and the roots can be used to make a kind of flour.

Of course, I had to try.

Dakota and I trudged down the hill to dig up cattail roots. We found them much more difficult to uproot than expected. Many of the roots broke off underground, and many more quite simply didn't budge. The few roots we managed to extract from the mud convinced me we would never survive if we had nothing to eat but these roots. Unless we found an easier way to dig up the darn things, we would burn more calories than the plant provides.

(Continue below...)



These are the roots we managed to take up from the ground. The mud had a kind of rotten swamp smell. Of course, we washed that away in the kitchen sink.



After washing the roots, we peeled the outer layer and exposed a white inner layer. Next, I crushed the roots in a bowl with water, using only my hands. I was careful to force the fibers against each other and thereby extract the inner starchy material. The nutritive substance in the root made my hands feel soapy.



After all the fibers are removed, the edible portion forms something like a starchy sludge at the bottom of the bowl. The water is removed and the rest is allowed to dry.



Once dry, the remaining powder actually does have the consistency and feel of flour. I was quite happy with the results, but as I said, I wonder if the amount of work balances the nutritional value. We probably worked for more than two hours, and yet harvested less than a half cup of flour. I suppose it's good to know in a pinch, but I won't be digging up the swamps any time soon for my survival needs.

Snowflake Tree

Last year we began a rather odd tradition of naming our Christmas trees. It began when we went to purchase a tree and after a brief conference amongst themselves, the girls declared, "We will call this tree Timothy."

This year the honor fell upon McKenna alone. She took about 24 hours to deliberate, and finally this evening, she stood before the decorated tree and announced, "The name of this tree is Snowflake." The family clapped and cheered and welcomed Snowflake the Tree to preside over home during the Christmas celebration.

Powwow

My cousin Gabby sat next to us with his drum Iron Spirit.


Dakota sleeping on Rhonda's lap.

The senior class of Medicine Wheel Academy sponsored a powwow this evening at Havermale School. Normally I don't attend powwows during the opposing season, but my good friend invited me to sing at the drum. Not to mention, I also felt moved to support the students at my former workplace.

Years ago, I used to sit with Hank Wynne and my father when they still called themselves the "Corn Dogs." The drum name started as a joke, but stuck for quite some time. Finally my yaya Messie decided they should take a more respectable name and paid to call them "Little Falls." Hank and my dad are both gone, as well as several others who sat at that drum, but many of us remember those songs and continue the tradition.

Tonight at the Medicine Wheel powwow, I sat with Eric and the Hall Creek drum. Most of the songs are the same as I remember from my youth. It's an honor.

Rhonda also sang with us, but Dakota fell asleep on Rhonda's lap. He went to a scout camp last night and only slept one hour. Even so, I imagine the sound of the drum resonated in his sleep and moved his dreams.

Water

A single drop of water hangs from a branch and calls my attention. It reflects the surrounding environment like a crystal sphere and inverts the image. For the tinest moment I find myself captivated by that single drop, as in a world of beauty unto itself.

Tree

The women who attend Rhonda's retreats presented her a Christmas tree. Susan Schilling made the delivery and said, "A little bird said you needed a tree." Immediately our home filled with the wonderful smell of noble fir and a feeling of abiding love.

Color

Perhaps the spirits overheard my complaint about the overbearing gray these last few days, because just as the sun began to set, the sky burst forth into brilliant color. The breathtaking sunset arched across the horizon in fiery pink, then faded gradually into a deep blue. Lemlmtsh for the blessing of color.

Whitney in the Morning

When I woke up this morning, I heard my daughter calling me from the bathroom. "Dad!" she hollered, "Come turn on the water for my shower." I stumbled out of bed and found her sitting on the bathroom counter. She looked so adorable, I made a sit still while I retrieved my camera.

Followers

The new format of this blog allows me to gather "followers," other bloggers who admire my writing, enjoy my photographs, or otherwise read my posts. Come to find out, I already had four followers before I even knew the feature existed. Of course, now that I recognize the potential of an expanded readership, let the evangelizing begin. If you're a blogger, this is your altar call to the Blog of Moses. You'll find the appropriate link listed in the left side panel, titled "Follow this blog." Take a leap of faith, click the link, and become one of my devoted followers... ;)

Redesign

After battling many months of personal resistance, I finally decided to re-structure my blog from the older "template" format, to what Blogger calls a "layout" format. Despite my initial hesitation, layouts have made my life as a blogger infinitely more convenient.

My primary reservation was that I would lose all the template modifications made over the years. Previous to the switch, modifications often required me to manually change the HTML code, often through a tedious and frustrating process of trial and error. I was never formally trained in HTML, so not only was it difficult to find the proper code sequences, the smallest typo could make the entire template malfunction. After I finally created a workable template through sheer force of will, I hated to lose my template and begin again.

Ironically, layouts provided an easy fix to the very issue holding me back all these months. They allow me to re-create everything and more, and they do it without all the confusing manipulations to the HTML code.

The layout format does everything I ever needed before, and adds new dynamic features. For example, prior to the change, my blog featured a static list of fellow bloggers. If a link stopped working or changed, I had to re-write the code manually. Now Blogger creates the list for me, and also provides a real-time display whenever the other blogs are updated. I'm just now beginning to experiment with many of the other interesting features.

The Gray

One season passes to the other and drains the world of color. The transition creates a breathless, formless void where all the greens and reds and yellows and purples wither away to nothing. One shade of gray blends into the next, and all the fine edges of life begin to lose their focus. In the hazy silence I feel just a little more empty, and slightly less alive.

The earth sleeps beneath a lifeless cold; maybe she dreams of spring-time. And when she finally wakes, perhaps I shall find my renewal also.

Ron & Linda

Linda, Dakota, Ron, and Rhonda.

Rhonda's father and step-mother paid a visit to Spokane and stayed an altogether too short time with our family. Monday was their day at the Moses household, spending lunch with Rhonda and I, and then an evening at Wonderland with the kids. We hope to get more visits in the near future.

Time Capsule

Earlier today, I found a digital memory disk that had been used about six months ago and then forgotten. It became like a time capsule of events last summer. The best pictures were taken of Whitney near the Little Spokane River.

Gathering

Dakota is just a cool kid.

The other day, he and I reviewed how to make cordage and dolls with cattail leaves, and he took to it with enthusiasm. After only a few tries, he's become the expert. In fact, he decided to pull me out of the house to gather more leaves in preparation for other variations of his creative ventures.

The skills are wonderful in their own right, but it's even better to go outside and spend time in nature. Of course, we also got some great photographs.

Inge

Inge and Dakota...

My step-mother Inge paid a visit to my home on her return trip to Kettle Falls. She had dinner with my family and then enjoyed an impromptu dance recital performed by my daughters. Dakota sang a song, and then we all looked at pictures. We all had quite a wonderful visit.

Protection

Some things are just plain miraculous.

The day after Thanksgiving, I came home from buying shoes with Dakota and Rhonda told me to check the hot water heater. "There's no hot water," she said, "The pilot light must have gone out."

As much as I hate the inconvenience of household repairs, I hate cold showers even more, so I went downstairs immediately to check the pilot light.

What I found surprised me. The metal door covering the burner was missing and contrary to Rhonda's report, the fire was alight at full force. But to my shock and dismay, a bedsheet had somehow fallen into fiery opening of the heater. The edges of the cloth were just beginning to blacken and smolder. If I had arrived only a few minutes later, I'm sure the house would have burned.

But that's not the strangest part.

After I cleaned the area around the water heater, we checked the settings and discovered the temperature knob turned toward cold. I'm one hundred percent certain that no one in our family turned the knob, but the cold water may have saved our lives. If the water in the house had not gotten cold, I would have had no reason to check the pilot light, and I certainly would not have found the smoldering sheet.

We returned the knob to its normal position, and the hot water resumed.

I have no explanation for what happened, other than to suggest some kind of unseen protection.

As an interesting side note, every Friday I attend the sweat lodge with my uncle Pat, and every Friday he prays in our Indian language. Almost every time, he asks the Creator to protect our people from a standard list of tragedies, including death, illness, accidents, and housefires. I often thought it was strange for him to specifically name housefires in his prayer, but I will never think that way again. In fact, I will be sure to give him this report the next time I see him.

Ministry

My grandma Alice attends the Assembly of God Church and leads a ministry dedicated to providing shoes to "needy and otherwise deserving" children. She and several other members of the church created the ministry six or seven years ago. They obtain donations at a local level and then purchase shoes for those in need.

Grandma called me on Friday morning and reminded me of her ministry. She then said she wanted to buy shoes for Dakota as a way to honor him for his performance in the recent production of Peter Pan. She Dakota falls under the category of "otherwise deserving." We met at a local shoe store and Dakota received a new pair of boots. Grandma probably didn't know that right about now Dakota also falls under the category of "needy." He has desperately needed a new pair of winter boots, but money has been short this season.

I thank grandma Alice for following her heart to create the shoe ministry, and I thank the Creator for inspiring people serve the needs of others.

Thanksgiving

Thanksgiving is a family event, made for the gratitude of all the ones we hold dear. This year was especially warm and happy for me. My wife, sisters, mother, and children enjoyed the day with me.













This is the second year I took charge of the turkey, and I must say it was a triumph once again. Of course, I had to post the obligatory photograph of my work... :)



After dinner, my mother and sisters asked me to teach them to make cattail people. We all stood around the table with the cattail leaves in hand, laughing about our creations, although this photograph shows us in a moment of particular concentration.

A Light Snow

My sister asked me to collect more cattail leaves and to teach her how to make the little people I blogged about earlier. As a result, I hiked down to the marsh to gather more, and as I stood in the field, a light snow began to fall.

Cattail Meditation

A sample of cattail cordage...


Yellow grass and cattails...

The damp cold air sticks to my skin as I walk down by the river. Trudging through the tall yellow grass, my feet fall into the mud, soaking my shoes and socks. My feet are now thoroughly chilled, so I decide to hurry home.

Halfway up the hill, the dry cattails catch my attention. I remember the little cattail people we made with my friends last year and I decide to stop. I take the leaves into my hand and begin to twist the natural fibers into cordage. Such a simple act, making cordage, but I find it purely meditative. A distinct calm settles over my body and mind, while every hint of cold disappears from my feet. Suddenly the air seems more clear than before and a bald eagle flies overhead.

The moment was simple and yet transformative; a reminder of my connection to the present moment.



I took a handful of cattail leaves, brought them home, and made another person. It's hard to explain; those little people really are quite magical.