Who's writing this blog?

After 16 years of living in the forest at an elevation of 8600 feet, we found ourselves searching for a place away from encroaching traffic, light, noise.

Early in our family life we were blessed to have wise elders who showed us by example the value of simple living--what we now know as the Leave No Trace ethic. Our commitment to that view of ourselves in the world has only deepened, through 50+ years now of marriage, children, grandchildren. It's a work in process--there's always more we can do to shrink our footprint on this beautiful earth. And we've discovered the deep joys of leaving the world a better place for having been here. Planting trees, for instance.

Captured.
When I try to write about the beauty of this part of Larimer County I'm unable to find words that aren't trite cliches. It all comes out sounding like a Hallmark greeting card. If you're reading this, you probably know what I'm saying. So there's this: we fell in love with it. Maybe this blog is a love letter.

A little research showed us the rich and fascinating history of this little corner. And some time spent with the founding documents of Glacier View Meadows convinced me (Claudia's not so keen on studying Master Covenants) that we could find a true home here, a place dedicated to

...maintain[ing] a style and nature of building design that is architecturally harmonious with the physical character of the area, including quality of workmanship, type of materials and harmony of external design.

We're pretty comfortable in rural and mountain living, and this ethic spoke directly to our core values. But choosing to live that way ourselves is different than being told we have to comply with someone else's definition of exactly what that means

First challenge.
We'd never lived in an HOA, and had heard plenty of horror stories. Is this a place run by a bunch of HOA nazis? In the end of our research we decided that the pluses of settling here far outweighed the risks of been stuck in a toxic community. The weekend of the April 2017 36" snowstorm, we moved to Gate 9.

Our apprehensions have proven to have been totally unnecessary. We love this community. We truly appreciate what we've come to realize as the importance and value in living in a well-managed homeowner's association.

It has required some adjustment from us in learning to navigate such a local government. We learned early on that deep in the DNA of Glacier View Meadows is a profound respect for the nature of people who choose to call this home: residents who prefer self-sufficiency, but are aware of the need for neighborliness and commonly agreed upon rules. In every way, we have seen and experienced a light and respectful hand in the development and administration of regulations. We've found responsive, helpful, and generous support when we've had questions or concerns. And our participation in the organization has been encouraged and welcomed.

Why this blog.
With this part of Colorado showing no sign of losing its appeal for new residents, we look forward to new neighbors who share with us the importance of living in harmony with the land. In this spirit, I write this blog, a journal of my discoveries.

I'd hope that the ideas here might provide a few thoughts and inspirations for you about what this part of the world is. Maybe what I share here will be one of the places you turn to when you're wondering how to make Glacier View Meadows more fully your home.

We continue learning about the place and getting to know the people. Writing about it is one way I have of figuring things out for myself. I look forward to hearing from you in the comments, so you can be part of my education.

Where'd I come from?
I'm a man of the American West. I spent my early life in the San Francisco bay area, my university years in Utah. After raising a family in the Nebraska prairieland, I've found my home in the mountains of Colorado.

Want to know more about me?

If you google my name, you may find some references to my work with communities and with historical geography. You may even stumble across some of the other online writing I do.

Want to know more? Read some random pages of the blog here. Check out the Facebook page I administer, which I consider a sister to this blog. Or drop me a line, at moneill[dot]gvm[at]msn[dot]com. I love to share a good cup of coffee.

The fine print.
Truth in Advertising: I feel strongly enough about some of these ideas that I volunteer my time and skills, such as they are, with the HOA. I serve these days as chair of the Architectural Review Committee, which reports to the Road & Recreation Board of Directors. With that in mind, here's a specific disclaimer.

A brief disclaimer.

This blog, like the Facebook page, is a personal project. These are expressions of my way of being in community.

I consider myself fortunate to live in this place in the mountains, but I'm not promoting it and am not reluctant to admit its human frailties. I provide contact information for the HOA, but the work on these sites is not formally associated in any way with the Homeowners Association. I speak for myself.

I won't "monetize" what I'm doing here, and don't do it for any particular benefit for me or my family. Sooner or later, I expect it will have served its purposes and will become some sort of historical reference point. I'm not here forever.

Michael.

Watching and learning.

It's a curse.

Everywhere I go I see systems in action. I can't not see them.

The keystone of my intellectual life has been my awareness of the connectedness of the world. Even before I knew I was aware of it.

A childhood memory: my mother once lived with a man who was passionate about automobile mechanics. I've no idea what he did for a paying job, but he and I spent hours in the garage on White Drive in Hayward, California taking apart and rebuilding the engine of an old Ford, something from the 1930s.

I was maybe seven years old and had never so much as peered under the hood of a car. I'd just met and moved in with Goldie, and I was living in a new neighborhood with no friends yet. So I hung out with him.

Not that I had any idea what we he was doing. But I watched closely, no doubt peppering him with questions as he worked. "Hand me the 3/4 wrench," he'd say to his GoFer. "What are you doing with it?" GoFer would say back.

Before long he was telling me about generators, spark plugs, radiator hoses. Then we got to the carburetor. Beautiful little world all its own. I loved it.

Goldie was a good teacher, patient, loved to talk about what he was doing and could do so in words that made sense to me. Didn't take long for him to have me taking the carburetor apart, cleaning the parts in solvent, putting it back together. "Why's it need a needle valve?" "What's it do?" "How does it do that?" "Where does this wire come from?" "What's that have to do with making the wheels go?" Great puzzle.

Within a few weeks I had a pretty good understanding of the way that little engine worked, how the pistons drove the crankshaft, into the transmission, turning the wheels, which went faster when I stepped on the gas pedal. Oh yeah, he'd set me on a paint can behind the steering wheel and we'd go down the country road a mile or two at a time.

To this day I count that as the foundation of my appreciation for a set of good tools. It also formed the basis for my understanding of the fleet of cars and trucks I've owned and cared for through the years.

I only knew Goldie for a year or so. He thought he was teaching a kid about a Ford.

But he was also showing the power of passion, the magic of patience, the excitement of learning.

And I was seeing in all its glory the miracle of these many separate parts working together in beautiful harmony.