Exploring

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A fun night in and around Union Station! Me and my best love in and among the masses (hidden from these photos but definitely there) on a beautifully balmy spring-like evening. It was our first time visiting since the complete renovation, and boy oh boy does everything dazzle like a new penny.

We supped at Tupelo Honey Cafe, for the sweetness AND the song , though mostly for the song, and no, they didn’t play it. Troy, this is the drink tipped in your honor – a Frose, which was sweeter than I like but pink(!) with a cherry on top, so all was forgiven. We also had some marvelous ribs, a cobb salad with fried chicken, and a biscuit big as my fist. High carb and worth the tickle of tastebuds. Indeed.

The Icehouse and the Wynkoop – two of the last bastions of our youth in ever-changing LoDo. In our 11th and Lafayette apartment living days, we spent many a night here, eating, drinking, playing pool. To continue in the Van Morrison vein, there was a jukebox with Brown Eyed Girl on it, but the barkeep had an override button that would send it along to the next song! The chuckles we had when it happened.

On Tennyson now, really getting as much bang for our buck as possible!

How about that handsome face?!

We sipped lattes to a toe-tapping French quartet at Tennyson Street Coffee before calling it a night. Many thanks to my parents for watching Juniper during our night on the town!

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Deep velvet black tuxedo and brindle; quiet, a day with a bark as frequent as a full moon; paws the scent of corn chips, amber eyes rimmed in thick lashes. Our girl, Juniper Beulah. She is the best greeter, wriggling and wiggling into tight “C” shapes, little tail nubbin a separate and most ecstatic mover of its own.

We adopted her one year ago today! Nervous heap of a pup, forty-five pounds lodged solidly on my lap for the car ride home. Tired and tentative, we coaxed her in and out of her crate with food. Sometimes it worked, sometimes it didn’t. But we kept at it, walking (more, more, more!) cuddling, loving, watching her bud and blossom into her true self.

She is a dog’s dog: scratching, licking, nibbling at an itch as one would an ear of corn. A supreme lover of W A L K S and ace whimperer when she believes she is overdue. Same goes for breakfast, dinner, the afternoon treat, too.

On the office chair she cuddles, in bed after gobbling down breakfast, on the sofa come evening time, but NOT in summer, and never when it is time for a W A L K (see a pattern here?). She sleeps on beds in our respective offices, dividing her time.

Afternoons, and after not long enough promenades, she frolics, silly and free in the back yard. An often eager digger, she works to unearth freshly covered holes before animating sticks and her one toy (particular, she is) with high and wild gestures of Juniper joy.

Every evening, at unpredictable times of HER choosing, early to late, she puts her own self to bed. Dead asleep on the sofa one moment, eyes wide, air of genuine concern the next, before hopping along and ever-so-patiently waiting for the crate door to open. She will not do it herself.

A ridiculously fine traveler, quick maker of friends, and honorary member of our RPG group, she is simply the best. We count our luck in the sound of her sighs and cheeks licked in the stealth of conversation. Here’s to a wonderful year with our magical girl!

 

Drumroll please…..We went for a walk on Wednesday! Our first together since December 14th. How cute are my walking companions, by the way? The hubster looking handsome in a new coat (his old one so well loved that it ripped right apart), and Juniper Beaulah – eyes closed to the warmth of the sun. As for me, I am not quite footloose and fancy free, but I did make it all the way around the block, so footloose-ish. With a bit of luck and continued healing, I may just be able to walk without a gimp and in an actual shoe after January 24th. Fingers crossed!

Also, my apologies if you came here thinking I was going to have photos of Kevin Bacon in one of my least favorite movies OF ALL TIME. Ugh. Sorry 80s fans. You can’t win ’em all.

This beautiful sight was my reward. A rain storm rolling on in, which is kind of wacky for Colorado in January and made me totally nostalgic for Portland. I do miss me some winter rain. Quite a lot, actually.

Rain soaked streets on our way to a fabulous dinner with friends at Pho Brothers. Good grief, do I love that place!

Happy Friday!

Art Fix

It’s Not About the Numbers, by James Surles

Wendy Mike and De Lane Bredvick

Mother’s Desk (typewriter and desk made of cast glass!!), by Steven Durow

Judy Crook – animation, by Jennifer Steinkamp

Greg watches A Very Long Line –  a film that traverses the length of the United States border with Mexico. Dizzying…

Reminiscent of the temporal works of Andy Goldsworthy, Raven Chacon’s evocative film captures stunning images painted on icebergs.

John Wayne sculpture, by Marisol & Portrait of Gerald Marr, by Peter Hurd

San Jose, Arroyo Hondo Sculptor

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I got a much needed art fix with the full cooperation of the the hubster one afternoon a few weekends ago. The Colorado College Fine Arts Center has an exquisite and very well-curated collection in a Goldilocks, just-right space. We got up close and personal with all of the pieces without being overwhelmed by the sheer number. So used to hearing only whispers or the creak of shoes on a wooden floor, I was pleasantly surprised by all of the works that featured sound. Additionally, the FAC has a tactile gallery where everyone is encouraged to touch the art. Super-cool! Glad to have it in the neighborhood, and sorry I took so long to get there.

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Perfectly painted skies for the beginnings of our Thanksgiving adventure. West to Buena Vista!

Breakfast, mmmmm…bacon.

We followed Cottonwood Creek on foot and by car to its namesake lake; dancing sun pennies, enveloping ice, ruby red rose hips, and the silence of near solitude every bit worth the effort.

Forgoing the hullabaloo of large family gatherings to enjoy a Thanksgiving for two (+ one beloved pup) in a wee cabin in the woods. Stuffing in progress in my favorite cast iron pan: apple, celery, cranberry, minus the onion I left at home. It doesn’t have to be perfect to be wonderful. True that. The pie, however, was both, my best yet.

Feeling nostalgic for the wooden cabins of my youth – humble dwellings of strong character, flanked by massive tanks of propane.

More humble dwellings and every manner of delight at Cottonwood Hot Springs – fish jumping, lily pads floating, creek rushing, crows soaring. We soaked for hours and hours, sunrise to the waxing crescent of moon and sky thick with a ribbon of Milky Way stars. My love for this life and this place ever-expanding, like the universe itself.

St. Elmo – slipping, not only from the Buena Vista temperatures of spring-like warmth, but more than a century in the past. Sneakers sliding on full winter ice while gawping at Mountain Lion tracks – the wonder of a single day.

Playing with darkness, eager to do some book and youtube learning to capture the wonders of night. How crazy is that green?!

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