The Isolation Blues

Solitude and isolation have taken on a whole new meaning to me in the last couple weeks. Up here in the high country of Colorado, miles from a town and a mile off the main road. I have come to know some things about myself not previously known.

Even though there is a blizzard going on outside life goes on. There are three little birds of unknown species outside my window that seem oblivious to fury of the storm. They are scratching and pecking for anything that appears to be food on a bare portion of ground raked clean of snow by the howling wind. The temperature is fifteen degrees with a thirty mile-an-hour driving snowstorm, yet they seem not to notice it. I wonder why they don't seek shelter from the storm. Do they somehow sense that this storm will worsen and their food supplies will become even scarcer?

I have always wanted to be snowed-in for a winter where I could write uninterrupted by the modern world and all its conveniences. I'm afraid that I could not part with certain of them, lest I break with sanity. My two companions for this isolated stay are two big black cats (the Manx brothers, Puck and Bear) who watch me write and sit alongside me to study with interest every morsel that I put in my mouth. Strange breed these Manx cats who come running when you call them and catch morsels of food in their mouth when tossed to them similar to dogs. They hang their feet with spread open toes over the edge of the two recliners next to the potbelly stove to warm them. These boys are very different creatures.

I laid in a few months supply of food, two cords of wood, and a ton of coal to get me through the winter. The house has a gas furnace and water heater fed by a natural gas line routed through the property which is my backup, although expensive. Of course, I have my antiquated computer fed by satellite dishes for the internet, television, and a stereo. These are my diversions to combat the loneliness that accompanies isolation.

Still, the isolation is starting to get to me. Sometimes at night I wake with a start trying to catch my breath and listen for voices I think I heard. The creak and groan of the house recovering from below zero temperatures in the morning sometimes sound like animals trying to get in. It took a while to get used to that. Those pioneer mountain men must have been getting a little crazy by the time spring arrived. At least I can write and talk to people by phone and internet, however I'm beginning

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