Colorado Cocktail (and a shot of California)
This blog has been sadly neglected. But I haven't been on the road much; rather, I've been revolving in an eddy of family and friends, mostly in Colorado, with a squirt out to California and back.
After the Green River trip, I spent a few days in Steamboat Springs, soaking in the intense sun, the clear blue skies, the huge puffy white cumulus clouds, the mountain valley rich green with pine, aspen and grass. This stint afforded me my third spring of the year -- or 4th, if you count the Apache plume, Indian blanket and Spanish broom of Santa Fe (1st was Washington, DC; 2nd was Cleveland). In Steamboat, there was a profusion of beautiful columbine and lupine, both native and domesticated, in many shades of blue, lavender, pink and white. Sally and I visited the Steamboat botanical gardens -- not as large and grand as the Cleveland botanical gardens, but very beautiful against the backdrop of Emerald Mountain, which was indeed emerald with the spring green. The gardens boasted superb columbine at every turn, beautiful iris, some stunning red poppies, a blanket of Johnny jump-ups (violas), and lots and lots of other flowers whose names I have already forgotten, creating quilted hillsides and inviting bowers and nooks of peaceful enjoyment.
On Father's Day, Sally, Mark and I went for a hike up Mad Creek, which afforded many more delights of wild flowers -- fleabane, like tiny daisies, blue bells, mules ears (similar to black-eyed Susans), and many other white and yellow flowers of unknown identity. We saw white blossoms on the thimbleberry bushes -- I've previously only seen (or noticed) the resultant thimbleberries. The Mad Creek trail starts where Mad Creek intersects the road that goes north from Steamboat along Elk River. The trail quickly climbed a few hundred feet above the creek, which roared madly through the rock and pine. Eventually, the trail and creek again met, and that is where we had Sally's excellent picnic of herbed chicken, potato salad with fresh marjoram, and lemonade with fresh mint. Close to our picnic spot was a cowboy with two saddled horses seeking shade under a huge pine. You just couldn't ask for a more classic, picturesque Colorado scene.
Another Colorado experience was dinner with Chris and Becky, who served shish kebabs of elk bagged by their son. I expected it to be tough and gamey, but instead it was like a tender steak. The dinner was accompanied by watching the shenanigans of their two young turkeys roaming in the yard. The turkeys are named Thanksgiving and Christmas. After dinner Chris and I played guitar next to a bonfire, the heat welcome in the mountain night air.
Having noticed it had been quite awhile since I'd seen my parents, and that this Adventure was taking a lot of time, I decided to hop on a plane to San Francisco. June 22 I drove to Golden to leave my car at the home of Lyd and Carl (Lyd is my brother-in-law's mother). Lyd, having given me a delicious dinner, a pretty guestroom for the night, and blueberries for breakfast, also gave me a ride to the Denver airport. My brother picked me up at the San Francisco airport, and I spent Friday in Silicon Valley with him and Christy, plus dinner in San Francisco at the Alamo Square Grill (despite the name, it is not Tex-Mex, but French cuisine with seafood emphasis). On Saturday, Christy drove me to Mill Valley, at the base of Mt. Tamalpais in Marin County, where we met my mother for lunch at the old train depot, now a cafe and bookstore. Then Mom and I drove up to Santa Rosa, using lots of back roads through the vineyards and live oak-covered hills, with a stop at a roadside stand for sweet cherries. The movie that night at the retirement village was The Birds -- the 1962 Hitchcock thriller -- which was set at Bodega Bay, on the ocean east of Santa Rosa. So on Sunday we drove over there, stopping in the town of Bodega (inland from the bay) to see the historic schoolhouse, which in the movie is where the crows congregate on the monkey bars and then attack the children as they try to dash home for safety. That schoolhouse was built in 1873 and used as a school until 1961. It is now in private hands, and the front room is a gift shop with an array of Hitchcock T-Shirts, posters for the movie, and models of attacking crows. From there we drove to the bay itself and went out to Bodega Point, which sits above craggy rocks scattered in the Pacific ocean, home to many gulls. My mother managed to spot 3 gull chicks, nearly invisible against the rock with their spotted down. Several lines of pelicans passed overhead, and cormorants skimmed the water far below us. We saw a single Black Oystercatcher, which is one strange-looking bird -- black body, long red bill, and pink legs. Bodega Point, like so many places along the California coast, provides a heart-tugging panorama of hills terminating in cliffs above the waves, and brushed-steel water stretching to the gray horizon, with a shimmering silver-veneer patch where a few rays of sunlight diffuse through the fog.
Monday I returned to Denver and Lyd and Carl's hospitality (I won't bore you with the story of all the airline snafus, but will say Lyd and Carl went above and beyond the call by picking me up at the airport past their bedtime). For lunch, I met a childhood friend, Tom, in historic downtown Golden. Golden has done a fantastic job with its downtown. There is public sculpture on every corner, lots of signs giving historical tidbits, and a lovely walk along Clear Creek, above the Coors brewery. I spent the afternoon at the Golden library, taking advantage of their free wireless -- We love libraries! Lyd and Carl provided another delicious dinner that included pork chops barbequed by Carl, another comfortable night, and breakfast coffee on the patio looking at their terraced garden. Like Pam in Santa Fe, they have created a 5-star bird resort with bird baths, feeders and perches. We watched bright yellow American finches, toned-down yellow lesser finches, purple finches (which look red to me), broad-tailed hummingbirds, and many robins.
I then left Golden for Arvada, a suburb west of Denver, to have dinner with Tom and his beautiful family. Their backyard opens directly onto a small lake, so that they have a great view of the mountains, plus proximity to ducks, egrets, herons, and humongous carp. Tom's son grilled shish kebabs of steak and chicken. We ate on the back patio and then stayed there to chat as the sun set beautifully behind the mountains, the pinks and golds reflecting in the lake. After awhile we moved inside and played guitar and mandolin until midnight. It was quite an experience to see Tom. Our childhoods intersected at many points -- we had the same 1st grade and 6th grade classes, the same piano teacher in grade school, went to the same church, same junior high and same high school. We've barely seen each other since. Tom's memories of childhood are surprisingly acute, and it was enlightening to hear about my childhood neighborhood and peers through his perceptions. I wonder if our society would feel less need for psychotherapy if we all stayed close to our childhood friends and received the benefit of their perceptions of our parents and family dynamics and of our social standing during those painful teenage years.
I had thought of continuing my travels by heading north to Wyoming from Denver. But I learned I had mail in Steamboat and took that as a sign to return here. This meant I got to attend the Steamboat 4th of July parade, which was a great Americana experience -- firetrucks with sirens screaming (it made me feel like I was back in DC), horses, tractors, the swim club and then the rugby club squirting us with those powerful pump water guns, the All Broads Kazoo Band kicking up their heels, rodeo queens, a number of candidates for sheriff, county assessor, etc., floats for banks, churches and real estate offices, two llamas, a camel, and lots of other groups, including Just a Bunch of People, complete with banner saying just that. I have 254 pictures if you'd like to live the parade for yourself. After a fairly languid afternoon, Sally and I decorated sugar cookies with white frosting, blueberries, raspberries and strawberries (including some fruit flags, stars, and red, white and blue shields), and the family went to a barbeque at Mike and Cheryl's. After dinner we took our chairs to a corner of Mike and Cheryl's lot, which has a great view of the fireworks. The fireworks were very impressive given the size of this town, but probably worth the expense to maintain Steamboat as a major 4th of July vacation destination.
Probably another 2-3 days in the 'Boat, and then back on the road. Blogs should become more consistent after that, provided I can find wireless access in the wilds of the northern plains. Hope your summer is developing swimmingly. --Ann
After the Green River trip, I spent a few days in Steamboat Springs, soaking in the intense sun, the clear blue skies, the huge puffy white cumulus clouds, the mountain valley rich green with pine, aspen and grass. This stint afforded me my third spring of the year -- or 4th, if you count the Apache plume, Indian blanket and Spanish broom of Santa Fe (1st was Washington, DC; 2nd was Cleveland). In Steamboat, there was a profusion of beautiful columbine and lupine, both native and domesticated, in many shades of blue, lavender, pink and white. Sally and I visited the Steamboat botanical gardens -- not as large and grand as the Cleveland botanical gardens, but very beautiful against the backdrop of Emerald Mountain, which was indeed emerald with the spring green. The gardens boasted superb columbine at every turn, beautiful iris, some stunning red poppies, a blanket of Johnny jump-ups (violas), and lots and lots of other flowers whose names I have already forgotten, creating quilted hillsides and inviting bowers and nooks of peaceful enjoyment.
On Father's Day, Sally, Mark and I went for a hike up Mad Creek, which afforded many more delights of wild flowers -- fleabane, like tiny daisies, blue bells, mules ears (similar to black-eyed Susans), and many other white and yellow flowers of unknown identity. We saw white blossoms on the thimbleberry bushes -- I've previously only seen (or noticed) the resultant thimbleberries. The Mad Creek trail starts where Mad Creek intersects the road that goes north from Steamboat along Elk River. The trail quickly climbed a few hundred feet above the creek, which roared madly through the rock and pine. Eventually, the trail and creek again met, and that is where we had Sally's excellent picnic of herbed chicken, potato salad with fresh marjoram, and lemonade with fresh mint. Close to our picnic spot was a cowboy with two saddled horses seeking shade under a huge pine. You just couldn't ask for a more classic, picturesque Colorado scene.
Another Colorado experience was dinner with Chris and Becky, who served shish kebabs of elk bagged by their son. I expected it to be tough and gamey, but instead it was like a tender steak. The dinner was accompanied by watching the shenanigans of their two young turkeys roaming in the yard. The turkeys are named Thanksgiving and Christmas. After dinner Chris and I played guitar next to a bonfire, the heat welcome in the mountain night air.
Having noticed it had been quite awhile since I'd seen my parents, and that this Adventure was taking a lot of time, I decided to hop on a plane to San Francisco. June 22 I drove to Golden to leave my car at the home of Lyd and Carl (Lyd is my brother-in-law's mother). Lyd, having given me a delicious dinner, a pretty guestroom for the night, and blueberries for breakfast, also gave me a ride to the Denver airport. My brother picked me up at the San Francisco airport, and I spent Friday in Silicon Valley with him and Christy, plus dinner in San Francisco at the Alamo Square Grill (despite the name, it is not Tex-Mex, but French cuisine with seafood emphasis). On Saturday, Christy drove me to Mill Valley, at the base of Mt. Tamalpais in Marin County, where we met my mother for lunch at the old train depot, now a cafe and bookstore. Then Mom and I drove up to Santa Rosa, using lots of back roads through the vineyards and live oak-covered hills, with a stop at a roadside stand for sweet cherries. The movie that night at the retirement village was The Birds -- the 1962 Hitchcock thriller -- which was set at Bodega Bay, on the ocean east of Santa Rosa. So on Sunday we drove over there, stopping in the town of Bodega (inland from the bay) to see the historic schoolhouse, which in the movie is where the crows congregate on the monkey bars and then attack the children as they try to dash home for safety. That schoolhouse was built in 1873 and used as a school until 1961. It is now in private hands, and the front room is a gift shop with an array of Hitchcock T-Shirts, posters for the movie, and models of attacking crows. From there we drove to the bay itself and went out to Bodega Point, which sits above craggy rocks scattered in the Pacific ocean, home to many gulls. My mother managed to spot 3 gull chicks, nearly invisible against the rock with their spotted down. Several lines of pelicans passed overhead, and cormorants skimmed the water far below us. We saw a single Black Oystercatcher, which is one strange-looking bird -- black body, long red bill, and pink legs. Bodega Point, like so many places along the California coast, provides a heart-tugging panorama of hills terminating in cliffs above the waves, and brushed-steel water stretching to the gray horizon, with a shimmering silver-veneer patch where a few rays of sunlight diffuse through the fog.
Monday I returned to Denver and Lyd and Carl's hospitality (I won't bore you with the story of all the airline snafus, but will say Lyd and Carl went above and beyond the call by picking me up at the airport past their bedtime). For lunch, I met a childhood friend, Tom, in historic downtown Golden. Golden has done a fantastic job with its downtown. There is public sculpture on every corner, lots of signs giving historical tidbits, and a lovely walk along Clear Creek, above the Coors brewery. I spent the afternoon at the Golden library, taking advantage of their free wireless -- We love libraries! Lyd and Carl provided another delicious dinner that included pork chops barbequed by Carl, another comfortable night, and breakfast coffee on the patio looking at their terraced garden. Like Pam in Santa Fe, they have created a 5-star bird resort with bird baths, feeders and perches. We watched bright yellow American finches, toned-down yellow lesser finches, purple finches (which look red to me), broad-tailed hummingbirds, and many robins.
I then left Golden for Arvada, a suburb west of Denver, to have dinner with Tom and his beautiful family. Their backyard opens directly onto a small lake, so that they have a great view of the mountains, plus proximity to ducks, egrets, herons, and humongous carp. Tom's son grilled shish kebabs of steak and chicken. We ate on the back patio and then stayed there to chat as the sun set beautifully behind the mountains, the pinks and golds reflecting in the lake. After awhile we moved inside and played guitar and mandolin until midnight. It was quite an experience to see Tom. Our childhoods intersected at many points -- we had the same 1st grade and 6th grade classes, the same piano teacher in grade school, went to the same church, same junior high and same high school. We've barely seen each other since. Tom's memories of childhood are surprisingly acute, and it was enlightening to hear about my childhood neighborhood and peers through his perceptions. I wonder if our society would feel less need for psychotherapy if we all stayed close to our childhood friends and received the benefit of their perceptions of our parents and family dynamics and of our social standing during those painful teenage years.
I had thought of continuing my travels by heading north to Wyoming from Denver. But I learned I had mail in Steamboat and took that as a sign to return here. This meant I got to attend the Steamboat 4th of July parade, which was a great Americana experience -- firetrucks with sirens screaming (it made me feel like I was back in DC), horses, tractors, the swim club and then the rugby club squirting us with those powerful pump water guns, the All Broads Kazoo Band kicking up their heels, rodeo queens, a number of candidates for sheriff, county assessor, etc., floats for banks, churches and real estate offices, two llamas, a camel, and lots of other groups, including Just a Bunch of People, complete with banner saying just that. I have 254 pictures if you'd like to live the parade for yourself. After a fairly languid afternoon, Sally and I decorated sugar cookies with white frosting, blueberries, raspberries and strawberries (including some fruit flags, stars, and red, white and blue shields), and the family went to a barbeque at Mike and Cheryl's. After dinner we took our chairs to a corner of Mike and Cheryl's lot, which has a great view of the fireworks. The fireworks were very impressive given the size of this town, but probably worth the expense to maintain Steamboat as a major 4th of July vacation destination.
Probably another 2-3 days in the 'Boat, and then back on the road. Blogs should become more consistent after that, provided I can find wireless access in the wilds of the northern plains. Hope your summer is developing swimmingly. --Ann
posted by Annventurer | 4:42 PM
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