Colorado

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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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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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Pike’s Peak

America’s Mountain and mine…

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Virginia Creeper in fall flame and a rather nice bit of vintage signage a short hop from our house. We admired it while enjoying dinner and coffee and cake at the newly minted Good Neighbors Meeting House. How I love having fun places with kindly people a walk a way from home. And the blueberry cheesecake? The best we have ever tasted. For the hubster this is especially telling, he is not usually a fan.

Black-eyed Susans making cheerful glances at the sky. I went out to photograph a horde of painted lady butterflies feasting on their nectar, only to have them flit off before snapping a photo.

Promenading – because Juniper knows the word walk and W-A-L-K. That dog is a smarty pants!

Caramel apple pie! Made for my parents who came to stay. It tasted as good as it looked.

Tabletop Tableau

Two of the painted ladies I did manage to catch. Or perhaps the same one? I don’t know how different their wings are, but these look very much alike to my non-butterfly expert eyes.

And the weather this morning, blanketing our burgeoning back yard. Mother nature didn’t get the memo stating I am not quite ready for snow. She does as she pleases…

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sunset

Our crooked campsite at Joyful Journey. It didn’t look so bad when we were setting up, but the wedged backpack next to the hubster’s sleeping bag to keep him from rolling down hill confirmed otherwise.

Moving, keeping still, exposing what I can’t see.

This was Juniper’s first camping trip, and our first together in more than twenty years. We heard the hoo-hoo of a neighborhood owl under the cloak of darkness and the primal yip and howl of coyotes welcoming the dawn. I cannot imagine a better or more fitting welcome.

sunrise

looking up

looking down

A beautiful hike just outside Crestone, it was a steep climb, up and up and up, earning Juniper and the hubster a looooong nap while I soaked and soaked and soaked.

I ate handfuls of these. Thimbleberry, maybe?

The San Luis Valley from on high. Good grief it is gorgeous!

rainbow smudge

storm

last bits of daylight

nighthawk

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