Mount St Helens Diary–part two

It was 24 years after the major eruption of 1980, and the mountain had been restless. My son Charles who was 19 now and I decided to drive down from Olympia WA and sit vigil for a while just in case something dramatic was about to happen. I took notes.

6PM Oct 3, 2004 —We’ve been gazing at the mountain, from one angle or another, since late afternoon. I’m sitting now on a wide, weathered stump, where I plan to stay a while. There is no better view than this, outside the danger zone, which has been officially extended to Johnston Ridge Observatory, 5.5 miles from the caldera, into which it faces directly.

The observatory is named in honor of the scientist Dave Johnston who was viewing from that location in a substantially less substantial observatory on the morning of May 18, 1980. He had time to radio to his colleagues stationed in Vancouver, WA, “Vancouver! This is it!” No one realized or imagined, apparently, even though the mountain had been visibly bulging out on that northern slope for months, that the volcano would blow sideways rather than straight up.

[edit 2025: In fact, I’ve found out that they saw the growing bulge on the north slope and did imagine it, but didn’t believe it would happen because it had never been seen to happen before. So Dave Johnston was where he was when it did.]

I know with my head that right below us, beneath our very seats, profound forces pulse and strive, but to look at this mountain that seems so still, so calm as it fades into the dusk, it is hard for my guts to believe it: I don’t feel in any danger.
If it were not for the scientists with all their gear telling us of the deep dynamics, the only outward sign of activity would be the plumes of dust we see rising from occasional rockfalls within the crater. Those little avalanches are more frequent as the imperceptible quakes and tremors shake the mountain, but from here, nine miles away, no sound of it reaches us.

Our house is 60-70 miles away, as the pyroclastic projectile flies. Due to the distance and the prevailing winds, we rarely saw ashfall in the events of 1980, and actually had to drive down under the great ash cloud on May 18th to scoop up a souvenir supply; we still have it in the same Folger’s Crystals jar. It was a light, floury-textured ash that day, unlike the very gritty stuff that came later.  The place we collected it was about 15-20 miles from the mountain, and considerable nearer the outer edges of the blast zone, with another ridge of hills in the way. We never saw any evidence of great heat or devastation that day.

We didn’t go there just to get a jar of ash. The thing is, when there’s a volcano going off in my backyard, it is unthinkable to just sit and watch it on TV.

Everywhere around us here are millions of dollars worth of record-keeping equipment, in the hands of both amateurs and professionals. We can see a cluster of news trucks at one viewpoint: they and all the sightseers were evacuated Saturday from one much nearer the Johnston Ridge Observatory, where we saw them on Thursday.

The big white vans remind me of barnacles, clinging to the rock with their feathery antennae out, grabbing at whatever they can get from the airwaves. Our spot is about a mile farther east, and at this proximity to the action we’re all waiting for, that gives us a slightly better view into the caldera: we can see a bit more of the mound in the center.

That mound is about a mile across, and the caldera itself is about three miles from side to side. We are about 9 miles northwest and a bit more than 3000 ft below the floor-level of the caldera. But it looks closer, and right at eye-level.

Our vantage point is on a hillside within the 1980 blast-zone, among the regrown greens at around 3000 ft altitude. From here, we can see high ridges north of St. Helens, still barren: grey tree trunks still lay like matchsticks, pointing away from the volcano; just over the ridge, dead wood stands just as naked, where the shape of the land protected them from the blast, but not from the intense heat and scouring ash.

Noble fir were replanted in the 1980s, and range from saplings that would make, in other circumstances, ideal living-room Christmas trees, to some 30 feet tall, or a bit more. These thick, young forests cover hillsides that were flattened in 1980, and burnt to crisps, and they dazzle, baffle and disturb the eye with their repetitive symmetry.

Nobles have an extremely neat, orderly habit of growth, and as economic of profile as they are, in large groups, they create an eye-troubling pattern hard to focus on after all the hours I’ve spent trying to un-focus, to see those 3-D pictures pop out of those computer-generated visual teasers that were a fad a few years ago. Some piece of my brain thinks these trees are meant to be part of that fun!

There are also groundcovers of grasses, small fuzzy and flowering alpine meadow plants, fungi, and berry-vines that, on a loose slope, grab at one’s feet. If one has foolishly rushed out of the house without one’s sturdy shoes, one is likely to come home with bloody red stripes across feet and ankles. (One is in the habit of sandals, in this mild autumn!)

Riding the highway through forested hills; we peered ahead through a misty autumn air, put on a little speed around each corner, eager for the mountain itself to be revealed… The last time we came this way was on a school bus for his third-grade field trip. There were distractions. We stopped along the way to visit the Buried A-Frame, the remains of someone’s summer home along the Toutle River, which is buried up to its second floor in dried mud and ash. I hardly remember where else and what else we saw, most of my attention being required for the herding of 9-year olds in fits of exhilaration. So last Thursday, it is like the first time.

Finally, suddenly, just around another bend, there it is: Framed by the forests and hills of southwestern Washington, it is a starkly ominous presence. As the road winds in and out of the coves of the hills, with every clear angle the volcano fills more and more of the field of view; the 24 year-old devastation emerges and dominates the scenery.

At one viewpoint, we turned and looked westward down the Toutle River, flowing grey with ash…

[note added 10/9: For the past several days the satellite images of the area increasingly show the river flowing more grey as loose ash enters the run-off from the glacier within the caldera, behind the old dome. The official photos from airborne cameras have shown a bubbling melt-lake where the action is getting hot between the dome and the glacier.]


8:30 PM-– The mountain is a grey ghost now, beneath a brilliant sky: Cygnus flies across the Great Rift of the Milky Way, which reaches from one horizon across the sky to the other. We don’t see this near the lights of Olympia, which are not that spectacular in themselves but quite enough to hide the splendor of stars. The Interstate-5 corridor and the cities, large and small that straddle it, create an orangey atmosphere, too, that taints the clarity of the sky night and day. That’s one reason anyone wanting to really see this volcano must come closer, even though the mountain is visible from miles away.

I didn’t intend to sit here all night, but wanted to wait until it was quiet. Really quiet. Just in case there was something to hear. For a couple of hours there was the constant ebb and flow of car traffic, about one vehicle coming into the area for every 5 or 6 going out, then one for every 3 or 4, and finally, hardly any traffic either way. From here, headlights show them coming either way for miles, and the hillsides contain and reflect the sounds. It was not until just after 8PM that I actually heard the silence of the land, broken only by a distant river.

Now, I hear one of the tiny toads we’ve seen around–huge voice for a critter an inch across! And a brief comment from a far-off coyote. There are still humans around: we hear the lacey sound of laughter from cars parked at least a mile away. Amazing, how clearly it carries! And a while ago we heard a childish voice followed by a parental imperative: “No, we aren’t playing squirt guns here. No! Put your pants back on!”

But there is no sound at all from the volcano.


11AM Oct 4– A steam eruption again this morning, around 10:40– The barnacles gathered it in hungrily, and sent it streaming out to us, back home in front of the TV. Makes me want to run out and find that nice vantage point again, but today makes other demands, so I don’t. Maybe tomorrow.

Everyone wants something exciting and spectacular so much, the news-folk want so hard to be the first to holler, “This is it!” They back up their “not yet…” monologues with enthusiasm, and then finally accept and acknowledge this was just another little burp, and the next Big Show is yet to come… Maybe hours, maybe years from now.

Last Thursday, when we were up at Johnston Ridge, Geraldo Rivera was up there, too: a reporter who has been known, if not respected, for years in the US, for his chasing after the spectacular: his was one of the first of the chair-swinging daytime talk shows; he committed a Prime Time Special to the opening of Al Capone’s underground vault, which turned out to be a repository of dust and the odd paper clip, as I recall.

Charlie heard him asking his cameraman, “How do you stake out a volcano?” The cameraman replied, “Well, at least you know where it’s going to be!

My thought, when I saw him, was, “Heck, we might as well go home.”


10 am Oct 5– There has been another steam and ash eruption on-going since about 9 this morning. Sadly, I am watching it on TV at home, but, happily, the views they are showing are from one of the helicopters, so we are getting spectacular views of the billowing clouds that we could not have gotten even if we made the drive. The weather is again clear, though change is expected today as the high pressure zone weakens and clouds move in from the Pacific.

The fascinating thing about a volcanic cloud is that it is so obviously not a water-vapor cloud: It has quite a different aspect, rising visibly, rapidly, and though the steam is white, the ash is grey, from light to very dark, and the cloud has not the translucence of even the darkest rain clouds. And while the steam and ejected material climbs the sky, on the outer edges, the heavy material is, at the same time, falling back to earth: It is much busier than a typical everyday storm cloud.

This event has quieted now, there is no evident ash, only steam filling the caldera, and overflowing gently into the sky, drifting off to the northeast. They showed a satellite view: the steam plume is quite visible from space.


1:30 PM Oct 12– The official word now is that magma has reached the surface of the new area of uplift, and can now be called an actual new lava dome. A large slab or fin of rock has thrust up through the surface of the dome and heat sensors are indicating rock is around 600 C (1000 F) and it has a pinkish color. How nice: It’s a girl!

The old dome built over several years following the 1980 eruption, mostly with slow effusions and upwellings, a few steam and ash eruptions, but nothing sudden or dramatic by a human perception of time. One reason for this is that the composition of the magma is mostly a mineral called dacite, which produces slow, sludgy and chunky lava. The lavas that flow in dramatic red rivers are basalt lavas.

I am hoping to drive down again this evening and see if I can catch on film the glow reflecting against the inner wall of the caldera.

(later edit: I made the drive, but at the safe distance, 10 miles away, any glow was too subtle for my eyes or camera.)


December 29, 2007
Nothing much of a publically dramatic nature happened at Mt St Helens in October, 2004. The mountain quieted, and after a time the news trucks, the photographers amateur and professional wandered off to other more exciting photo-ops, still envious of those who have been at the right place at the right time with the right equipment to capture that elusive and spectacular image that rewards patience, expertise, and sometimes just plain luck.

I still drive the 70 miles to the mountain from time to time, just to see what’s shakin’.

Mount St Helens Diary–part one

We’re approaching the 45th anniversary of the May 18th, 1980 eruption of Mount St Helens in Washington State in the US.

I was there that day.

I lived in Olympia, about 60 miles from the volcano. For months we’d been hearing news of the rumbling earth, increasing intimations that St Helens was restless. At the time, I didn’t know much about the mountain, had seen it on the horizon when driving south along I-5, but never much noticed it.

That day, May 18th, standing around at a swap meet in Tacoma, there was a great cloud in the sky down that way… Looking at it, it was clear that it was not a water vapor cloud. Within half an hour, I was driving down the highway, passed through Olympia, and stopped at a viewpoint in Chehalis where a crowd was gathered, looking in the direction of the mountain, but there was nothing but cloud. Not good enough! I drove on south and turned east on Hwy 12, drove until I was under that cloud, and then in it.

It was like being in fog, but dry. I got out and walked around along a side road. The forest all around was muffled the way it would be in a snowfall, but grey and not cold. I gathered up a jarful of the floury ash, which I have still.

A thought occurred to me: ages from now–actual earth ages–when this surface of the world is buried deep, a thin grey layer of rock, some future geologist could uncover it, and there will be my footprints in the geologic record of May 18, 1980.

April 24, 2025 CL Redding

The School of Becoming

Here we are, living on this fairly special planet; as Terry Pratchett described it and us, “…where the falling angel meets the rising ape.”

That’s us, indeed: a spiritual entity living in a body evolved over time from ape ancestors. Spirit vibrates at a high frequency while the body vibrates at quite a slower frequency, and somehow in some grand cosmic experiment perhaps, the two are brought together to live, to experience, to learn. 

I’ve addressed this before, the idea of this world of spirit and body being a kind of school, that we are here to learn about… What exactly? This is about what I believe about that. 

To learn about making choices, about how to choose, and what and why.

To learn to recognize the divine in and around ourselves, to recognize the divine in others around us, to recognize it in all around us.

To learn love.

We face lessons every day, and as we grow through experience and testings, we evolve as spirit. The lessons and the tests we face as individuals are scaled to how much we already know and the information we have whether or not we’ve put it all together yet. In fact, those pop quizzes that drop in front of us are often the tools for joining the bits into understandings. We fail a lot of tests, or get low marks because the information that we believed to be true and so applied to the problem was in some degree just wrong. 

It’s no problem, failing a test: It will come back again in one shape or another until we get it right or right enough and can move on. To make it easier, each time it will be presented more pointedly, louder, more intense until we get it. No matter how many times we fail, evade, postone, or ignore the problem, it will come back to us until we pass it.

Lessons also scale up.

We teach little kids about fire being hot and dangerous, and not to play with matches. By the time they are in high school hopefully they have learned enough more to respect fire but not to fear matches. An adult who won’t use a match because of being so well-taught in kindergarten is crippled in a world where control of fire is one of the most important tools.

An aside here:  When I say ‘we’ I am not talking of all humans, but mostly as the people descended from the ethnic Western Europeans who sought to dominate and define the world by their own paradigms, who considered themselves the most evolved, therefore wisest and rightest of all peoples of the Earth. ‘We’ need to study a little anthropology, to get it that all human beings have faced the same basic challenges in living on Earth, living as bodies, comprehending our place in the Big Picture…  And every community of humans has answered the challenges according to its own experience lived over time. Solutions are rarely universal, but they are logical and correct within their own context. And they are wrong and mistaken, too, every one of them in some regard because no one has the full picture. 

This world is built around dichotomies: up and down, night and day, hot and cold, right and wrong, life and death, male and female…  When we are young, we only have to choose one or the other. Then, as we get older and more experienced, we discover that there are many shades in the spectrum between black and white. We realize that everything is on its own spectrum and that the extreme opposites are not as simple as we once found comfortable and easy. 

The more we learn, the more our minds and hearts mature, the more dichotomies reveal complexities that require us to fine-tune our decision-making. Nothing, it turns out is either/or. Everything is and. It’s all part of the lesson plan. Most lately we are confronted by a lesson in which gender is not as simple or as comfortable as we have believed, and just as the way that many were troubled or even outraged (and some still are) at the notion that skin color does not define or diminish a human being, or that divorce was a legitimate course for a dysfunctional marriage, these lessons are learned and moved on from by more and more people in any given community until we are ready for the next challenge to our cherished but mistaken beliefs.


With every changing of the tide there is resistance, but there is also inevitability.  The forces that make tides are immense compared to the force of that which refuses change. A storm may create a surge for a time that inundates the land, but that surge is not the tide. Tsunamis are overwhelming and devastating, but they are temporary and limited in scope. 

In times of discovery of the complexities of dichotomies like gender where it once was so simple, ‘we’ can look to the many other ethnicities that have found solutions that allow and accept and move on. They have a flexibility in what might be called humility in the face of a Reality beyond their understanding. 

Every one of the lessons about such things are about learning to make choices, learning to perceive the richness and depth of divinity in and around us, and learning finally what love means. 

Stopping Shopping

The sun is shining, the temperature is over 60F and I’m off Facebook.

This is the day that’s been set aside by a few million Americans, perhaps, to pull back our credit cards and our wallets and withhold our coin from the profit-driven commercial segment of America. One day, 24 hours… to deliver the message that the pyramid’s top is supported by the foundation: Those with their heads up in the rarified airs of the apex stone need to be reminded who put them there, who keeps them there. That there are more of us than there are of them. 

I didn’t realize that staying off Meta’s platform, ie, Facebook, was part of it as much as not shopping with Amazon, until seeing a post from Robert Reich that came up this morning, 11 hours after it was posted. Thing about FB is that so often I receive notifications hours or days after an announcement or event. Anyway… here we are exploring all the ways we are not, in fact,  incommunicado from everyone just because we’ve silenced our FB voices. In fact, that’s what we, below the rarified airs, have needed to be reminded of.

So, today is an at-home day, getting done some house-cleaning which is, seems to me, entirely in the spirit of the day. 

Death and Past Lives

January 2, 2005
[January 15 2025]

These are two things that appear quite differently to Body and Spirit. 

 An eastern teacher taught one day, ‘Death is an Illusion.’  The next day, he taught, ‘Death is Real.’  His students tried to pin him down:  ‘Today you tell us Death is Real, yesterday you told us it is Illusion.  So which one is it?’  He said, ‘Death is a Real Illusion.’ That teacher understood about the difference and the entwinement of Body and Spirit. As human beings, we experience the awareness of death as a real thing, suffer death of loved ones as real loss, real and final separation–though as spirit we may know just as plainly that there is no final loss, and that death is not an end but a passage.

 I experienced the difference between Body and Spirit consciousness when I was listening to something about past-lives, and though in certain circumstances I had no trouble accepting the notion as totally rational and reasonable and real, this time it seemed absurd.  I considered why that might be: How could I so easily believe it one day, and so simply disbelieve it the next?  I ran the concept by myself again, and found it absurd.  Then I made a conscious shift from ‘I am  body’ to ‘I am  spirit’ and all of a sudden the reality of past-lives was simply obvious.

It isn’t hard to make that shift, it only takes accepting the premise that we are comprised of both, and can identify self with either point of view.  Everything in western culture makes it easy to identify Self with the physical.  Yet, it is not so hard to identify Self as Spirit, because we experience Self apart from Body every time we sleep and dream, or wander in our thoughts away from whatever thing our body is doing.  Once it makes sense to us that we are not just one or the other, that shift is a matter of choice. 

[A fuller view of the Great Picture suggests that it’s more a matter of multiple-lives based on the idea that only where we live our lives–here, where physical things are real and physical laws are the rule–does time run in one direction from past through now to future: For spirit, it is all NOW, and all points equally accessible.]

Having and Being

Dec 31, 2004
[2025 edits]

A model of human-being: I don’t have a soul: I am a soul; I have a body.

     A simple reframe and all at once, many things that didn’t quite fit, fall into place.  Body and soul each has its own protocols: its own needs and problems, and its own solutions, too.  When we try to solve the one’s problems with the solutions for the other, we just have confusion and frustration.

     It’s like parents and children: when either one runs the family according to its own imperatives, the other suffers. When the parent expects a child to behave and think and feel like an adult, or when the child, through noise and persistence, controls everyone’s energy and opportunities, the family flounders about in a chaos of pain and confusion.

     Then there is the Grandparent in that family, that represents the higher consciousness, or the connection with the Divine: can give good advice, but doesn’t make policy.  That is the Parent’s job, to make policy for the family, influenced by the Child and Grandparent.  If only it really was done that way… Usually, it seems that the noisiest gets their way most often. [That might be the rambunctious child or the bullying parent or the parent who needs the spotlight all the time…]

If you’re disappointed in God

it could be your expectations are unrealistic

Dec 31,2004
[2025 edits]

Maybe it’s because you don’t have a realistic notion of what God is, and what you can reasonably expect. 

Maybe God doesn’t do the kind of stuff you’ve been led to expect God does.  Maybe the role of God in the Universe isn’t what you’ve been taught. 
Maybe it is entirely different from the model of God which you were told was not a model, but a Reality…

 As if we can know! [More later on the distinction between knowing and believing.]

If God is real and absolute and perfectly God, then if we are disappointed, then who do you suppose is working with the wrong equations?  Who needs to reframe the picture? 

Getting the right answer is all about asking the right question.  Oh, and listening to the answer. [Even, recognizing the answers when they show up! This is the first challenge!]

How The Universe Looks From Here

The last day of 2004 I wrote the first words of a blog on a quiet little site of writers and readers. There are now nearly 400 pages of that blog, and it’s still there on Blogit; the site that has become quieter over the years but still hangs on. I still add to it with ideas, stories of my experiences, and anything else that seems to fit the theme.

I’ve been asking the Universe to explain itself to me since I was about 11 years old and asked consciously how to reconcile God with Science. Now and then, I seem to tune in on an answer. All that I write here represents not Truth, but what I believe to be true. I have my reasons, and I like to believe, my reason.

It’s now been 60 more years since I first asked that question. I’ve paused now and then, gotten distracted or side-tracked, but never stopped looking for a better focus on The Big Picture.

The Universe is a great, unbounded, multi-dimensional puzzle, and this is the space where I lay out the bits of it that I’ve collected and how I’ve put some of them together. Here I spill out my bag of puzzle-pieces and patches I’ve connected, and you’re welcome to pick around and possibly discover bits that fit your own picture of the Universe.

This blog explores thoughts and ideas, models of How It All Works, techniques of exploration, stories of my own adventures in the Universe. It is about the physical, the mental and emotional, and the spiritual aspects of being human. It’s about how things are connected, how all our various levels of being interact and make us whole. It’s about how what makes us individually whole can also mend and connect us as cultures living together on this little planet–not just human, but also other hearts and minds, other consciousness in the world.

No two of us points of consciousness have quite the same view of the Universe, but there’s plenty of overlap, plenty to share.

Welcome to the point where I stand gazing outward and inward, and HOW THE UNIVERSE LOOKS TO ME.

What’s Old Is New Again

I have begun a shift of one of my oldest blogs–HOW THE UNIVERSE LOOKS FROM HERE–from it’s original site, Blogit, to WordPress. It has its own page, and I am having to figure it out all over again, how to get things going, how to add tags and categories… All very confusing!

It begins 20 years ago, with the first posts of my first blog ever.
I’ve thought of organizing it by sub-themes, but have decided to post it chronologically, a sort of autobiographical look at my own philosophical evolution.

Please look for it if you have an interest in things pertaining to the peculiar blending of body/heart/mind/spirit that makes up the human being. It’s philosophy, poetry, technique, and what some people laughingly call ‘my logic.’

Good luck finding it, I hope you do, and enjoy it!

The Value of Trust

Hannah Arendt told us: The lies are not meant to be believed, they are meant to make us not trust anyone about anything. And being unable to trust the information we’re given, we can’t make any choices because there are no sure safe trust-worthy choices.

And that’s why so many Americans stayed home on Election Day: Unable to make what they could believe would be a good choice they froze embraced apathy and disenfranchised themselves.

All Republican Presidents after Eisenhower prepared the ground for where we are now. One prime example:
https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Fairness_doctrine

Roy Cohn, young Trump’s mentor, taught him everything he knows and does. Cohn was not a nice man, the Mephistopheles to Trump’s Faust.
https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Roy_Cohn

We’ve lost trust in American government, in corporate entities since they were officially judged to be ‘persons,’ enabling the buying of all things, especially government and elections. 
https://publicintegrity.org/politics/the-citizens-united-decision-and-why-it-matters/

We have all been bombarded with lies: reconstructed facts, misleading information, selective ‘truth’ for our entire lives. It’s part of the human experience, that someone is always skewing reality to persuade us to buy whatever they’re selling: to believe what they need us to believe to hand over our money for their product. 

The defense is in the ability to think clearly, critically about whatever is being offered both as fact and as product.
Who benefits most from me believing what they’re saying?

Follow the money!

Do I really need what they are saying I need?

What does their record reveal about their actual motives and accomplishments?

But critical thinking is not being taught as a basic life skill in America. Quite a lot is not being offered in public education, and private education has its own peculiar agendas. 
https://www.forbes.com/sites/brandonbusteed/2024/02/21/the-growing-discontent-with-american-education/

Just as we’ve leaned towards processed and ‘fast’ food, eating what pleases the mouth rather than what nurtures the body, we have shoved aside the joys of learning and knowing in favor of entertainment so flashy, how can anyone resist? Our lives stultify just like our blood vessels, filled with the plaque that comes from taking in what’s superficially seductive but has little actual meaning or value. We are full up and still devouring, and starving.

Actual social interaction has reduced itself to the two-dimensionality of a screen. Many of us would rather PM or text than make a phone call. We will check ourselves out rather than deal with other individuals. We buy things online and have them sent to us so we only minimally have to deal with the outside world. This is called ‘convenience’ but what else might it be called? 

To have a thing delivered in a day or even less, that’s magically convenient, sparing us ever having to wait, to exercise a little patience. What is it for the real human people who have to make that magic happen? 
https://www.buzzfeednews.com/article/carolineodonovan/amazon-next-day-delivery-deaths

Sitting and waiting for an appointment, for food at a restaurant, for the bus or the flight…  Who sits there patiently with themselves anymore, watching the world go about its busy-ness, exploring their own thoughts and imaginations? 
https://www.theatlantic.com/health/archive/2014/07/people-prefer-electric-shocks-to-being-alone-with-their-thoughts/373936/

We are living in a warped, twisted, dysfunctional, anti-human society. It isn’t just the U.S. and it isn’t every community in the U.S. just as in any given community there is a considerable range of healthy to dysfunctional families. Likewise, in every human individual there are conflicting beliefs and imperatives that depending on immediate need or trigger, take over the decision-making. And when, as Hannah Arendt pointed out, there are times when we have lost trust in what our senses and feelings tell us, we freeze… 

And someone out there, pulling strings and manipulating what our perceptions tell us, is benefitting from our bewildered dismay in the coinage of power–which often is, in fact, coinage.

Jan 7, 2025 by CL Redding