When Autumn Leaves Start to Fall

Chet Atkins playing Autumn Leaves is the perfect accompaniment for the photos I took yesterday when John drove us up the road to Rocky Mountain National Park to see the changing colors. The aspen trees always look splendid, but their Fall colors are my favorites.


It was a long day, since it began with me singing at both services at our church, First Christian in Loveland. We were there from about eight in the morning, or somewhat before that actually, until nearly one in the afternoon by the time we cleared the parking lot. I was wishing I had eaten breakfast, but I keep crackers in the back seat of the car and had two of those between services (great crackers, by the way—Crackerfuls, Four Cheese flavor). We took a lunch up the hill about twenty minutes to the park entrance, just the other side of Estes Park. We know how lucky we are to live that close.

The drive up along the canyon, following Big Thompson River was beautiful, but I always love rivers, and this one is popular with fly fishermen. On our way back down later we stopped and talked with one who said he was having a very good day, and didn't mind that I included his photo in my blog. He said the fish were biting, but not as much as he had hoped. Still, any day on the river is a good day. 

When we arrived in Rocky Mountain National Park we knew we were a couple of weeks too late to get the best of the fall colors, but it's taken the physical therapist a couple of weeks to get me to the point where I could get in and out of the car, climbing around taking pictures. We were lucky we made it when we did, since a storm front came in last night, and I understand the rain and snow pretty much did in most of the last of the leaves. If we hadn't made it last night, it would have had to wait for next year. I think we went through that last year, didn't we? 

My hip was a little extra sore this morning, but when I look at photos like this, it's worth it. I took about 300 photos, but lucky you... I've condensed my favorites into a short slideshow for you. And since nobody does it better, I downloaded Chet Atkins' version of Autumn Leaves as the accompanying music. He played as crisp and clear as the autumn air.

Advising the Baby Deer

Our yard is graced by woodland creatures. We see red fox, very timid, who race away through the cool morning twilight whenever they see me head out for the newspaper. There are bunnies and a few people swear they've seen mountain lions, but we've never spotted one in five years, or any sign of one. We get the most joy from the regular visits from the deer. It's especially wonderful when their fawns are born.

This year our herd only had three new babies, twins from one of the does and a single baby from another. Until today, they've only visited with their mothers. Today the three came together to our yard to play without any adult supervision. I guess they're growing up, but haven't lost their spots yet. I went out to sit on the deck after dinner and they all scampered through the pines away from me, then stopped at a safe distance. There they turned and stood looking at me.

I moved slowly, sitting at the table on the deck and said, "Hello, deer. Don't you all look wonderful tonight!"

I always talk to them, using my most nonthreatening voice. I treat them like they should expect people to talk to them. Gradually they wandered back until they stood in a wary group about ten feet from me, heads canted, listening. I told them we were planning to take a trip, and would be gone a month. I asked them not to forget me while we were gone. To take care of each other, and keep growing strong. I suggested they listen to their mothers, even when they didn't like what they were hearing.

Have fun together, I said, and be glad you have family and cousins around. That's important now, but will be more important in the future. And make sure you take care of yourselves, because winter is coming. I know it's been hot lately, but when the snow starts to fall, it will balance it out. I explained that I clomp around in the yard once the snow covers the ground, so they should get used to seeing me around the yard, and not just on the deck.

With a rustle and a bark, one of the mothers came through the shrubbery and pines. She stood and watched for a minute, then turned to leave. "Hi there, Mama," I called. She looked back, but kept moving. I wondered if she is one of the babies from the last five years, all grown up. Impossible to tell.

As the three from this year's generation fell into line behind her, I realized how contented I am to be living here. The feeling comes over me often.

A Day at the Beach

I honestly cannot remember the last time I spent on the beach before today. Whenever it was, I guarantee it wasn't nearly as much fun. There's something magical about grandchildren. Sharing anything with them enhances the experience, bringing it up a level.

My perfect day at the beach before would probably include sitting in the parking lot listening to the waves and watching them roll in. I don't like sand. It makes walking painful and difficult, and gets in any crevice available. I do, however, love the sound the ocean makes as it breaks along the shore.

My iPod has a few different CDs burned onto it that help me enjoy the sounds without the sand, even without leaving Colorado. One has the beach sounds during a storm. You hear the waves as a storm comes in, with rain and then thunder added to the pulsing of the ocean. It's a super nature CD. I have a few others that just have the sound of waves, or waves and seagulls, whales, or whatever sea life is within microphone range.

None of them bring me quite the same level of contentment as ocean sounds and grandchildren, though. There's something quite unique about the sound of a child's laughter coming in with the tide. I love watching their sturdy legs running along the edge of the foamy waves, daring them to douse their legs as they race.

Kites fly overhead. Babies sleep beneath the shelter of makeshift awnings. The newest of those belongs to me—grandchild number three from son number three. Surfers paddle in mediocre waves, proving this is California, while Kate pauses to rest and accidentally falls asleep in the sand, a smile on her not quite three year old face. Cousins come and peek at her and whisper "be quiet" in voices I can't believe she sleeps through. Her good mama pulls a towel over her so she won't sunburn. It's a sweet scene.

Watching my tall son, a father three times over, patiently and with great pleasure dig a huge hole in the sand to fit several children was more fun than digging it myself. Duh. All the children love Ben and Ruth. I can see why. They're fun. And when a couple of the older cousins dug a trench around the side and collapsed their hole (with them still in it) no one got upset. It was that kind of day. Maybe I do like the beach after all.

Carter Lake

This seemed appropriate, since we're going to leave home for a couple of weeks, to let everyone see why it's so very difficult to go away at times. When we lived in Southern California's suburbs, I was always ready to go—anywhere. In fact, we generally tried to find a place that looked amazingly like where we now live. After five years in Colorado, we still drive up our hill and say, "Aren't we blessed?"

I hope you've enjoyed these photos, a few of the many I took this week. They are some of the things I most love seeing here at Carter Lake.

The Jeremiah Tree

John and I drove to the other side of Longmont today to a big tree farm with an excellent reputation. We wanted to get an education on planting an aspen tree—and keeping it alive.

I had pictured having to get someone to truck a huge tree into the foothills and plant it for us at great expense. What I learned, however, is that this is something John and I will be able to handle ourselves. It will be a memorial tree for Jeremiah True, our first grandson. We want to have it solidly started before November 16th, the first anniversary of his short hour of life.

We chose the aspen for several reasons. They're so beautiful, and the slightest movement of breeze makes the leaves quake and shiver. The trees seem to live vibrantly, growing in clumps with white-barked trunks similar to the white birch trees I loved as a child playing in Northern Michigan's woods. They grow swiftly, and are extremely disease resistant. For a non-gardener, it seems like a perfect match. I know how to water. That's what it will need from me.

Add a little bench and a garden memory stone, and we'll have a wonderful place to commemorate our first grandson. His life may only have lasted ninety minutes, but his impact lives on. I've been donating blood again, which I had gotten away from since moving to Colorado. That's one thing I can do.

Hopefully our son and daughter-in-law will be able to join us here in November. We'll have the tree dedicated on the 16th. We'd like the tree to live on as a reminder—our Jeremiah tree.

All Packed Up and Places To Go

Springtime in the Rockies is never my first choice for leaving home. We are, however all packed up and more or less ready to leave in the morning.

Nature bid us goodbye with a rollicking thunderstorm today. Everything stopped while I listened to the pounding rain as the storm crossed the lake and passed over the house. Hail came down for awhile adding its clattering music while daylight hid behind the clouds. An hour later it was gone and the sun was again shining on my budding iris plants. I pray they'll wait to flower until our return. I hope the deer hold off on having their little spotted babies until then, too. The fawns are usually running all around our acre by now.

We had already been to town for my Critique Group meeting, and it went very well indeed. It's a fine group of six—a fairly new group, still getting to know each other. We write everything form fantasy to Westerns. Each one is a serious writer, which makes the group meetings lively and intense while still being helpful and friendly. They're all supportive of my adventure tomorrow as I go to pitch my novel at a mini conference near Denver.

Yes, I'm excited. I'm much calmer than I was three weeks ago. Much more prepared. John will have the utility trailer hitched behind us when we arrive at the conference, since we'll head across the Rockies as soon as it ends. We won't see home for almost three weeks. Tomorrow night we'll stay with my brother and his wife, and spend Sunday with them as well. It will be good to get in a good visit with them.

Monday morning we'll head to the Las Vegas area, and Tuesday we'll arrive in California. We take it a lot slower when we pull the trailer. Don't expect regular blogs while we're on the road. We'll be staying with my ninety year old mom. She doesn't believe in the internet. It's alright, though. She says the internet doesn't believe in her, either.

We're coming, Mama. I can hardly wait to see you.

On Volcanos and Travel Plans

Our airline tickets for Amsterdam are for Thursday, April 22nd, five days from now. The airports across Europe are still closed due to ash from the volcanic eruption in Iceland. The volcano continues to erupt. Oops. Our son, who is expecting us for this visit with his family, gave me the link to check Schiphol, the Netherlands airport directly for updates. As of five minutes ago, it says "Forecast: no air traffic will be possible to and from Amsterdam Airport Schiphol until further notice. Unfortunately we do not know at present when air traffic will be resumed."

Bummer.

I've heard that if you want to make God laugh, tell Him your plans. Well, excuse me, Sir, but did You happen to remember that I have Granddaughters over there? Excited Granddaughters? Little ones who don't understand things like volcanos far away that they can't see, and planes that won't fly when the sky is blue and clear? (Their daddy told me it was.)

Thousands of people are stranded at airports across Europe, while I sit here in my very comfortable home. Many people planned to leave this week and are already inconvenienced. I'm not worried yet. Really—I'm not. I'm praying, though.

Photo Update

This is sort of a tribute to having two cameras. When I only had one camera, I never got the photos that we'd see from the car, like elk roaming close to the neighborhood, or concerts in church. So many times we'd say to each other that some day we were going to get a very small but decent camera to keep in the car all the time so that when we wanted one, it would be there.

About two months ago, more or less, we were in CostCo and saw a huge discount on one of the small cameras they keep out for people to test. What's that called, a floor model? Whatever it is, we saved about 40% by purchasing it. It had a couple of very small scratches, but was otherwise perfect. It's not as fancy (or as heavy) as my good digital, but it's the same basic brand, a Panasonic Lumix. Here are the first photos we took with it, interspersed with photos I took around the house on it's big brother, the Lumix DMC-FZ18. I can tell the difference. If I blew them up to 8x10 or larger, anyone could.

I'm going to start with the photos of the elk. This morning they came closer to the house than ever before. I'd guess they were about .2 miles by road, or less as the crow flies. We don't have any crows, though...

{Editor's comment... I've been trying to download photos to Blogger for over an hour, and I'm giving up for tonight. I guess they're having some type of problem with the site, since I've done it many times before without getting an error message. I'll try again in the morning. For now, at least this much will let you know what's coming, and that I am trying.}

I spent several hours during the morning and again during the afternoon, and finally (at son Ben's suggestion) went to his slide show page and did it that way. I got it done, but am not sure I know how to connect it. So hopefully, you're going to click here and see a slideshow. If you don't see it here, just wait (again) until he gets up. Remember, he's in Holland, and they're eight hours ahead of my time zone. When we connect, he can walk me through it. I'm pretty frustrated at this point. I really do have other things I was supposed to be doing today.

Wednesday, April 14th, 1:15 p.m. here (and 9:15 p.m. in Holland)— Ben was so good as to look at what I had done and send me the fix, so if you were here and tried to see the slide show, you got a message that said "Access Denied." Sorry. I think I mentioned that there's no fool like an old fool? Well, try it again. It should work now. If it doesn't, this entire blog post is going to disappear. That will fix it.

Our Week in the Snow

I love it here. There's so much variety, so much to see and do, even if you're not overly physical—I'm going to admit that I consider walking my biggest physical endeavor. I'm not doing a slide show this time, but showing big photos of this last week, three outings including my early morning walk today out in the snow with the camera.

I want to say up front that I thank God every day that I live in these beautiful surroundings with my good husband in my comfortable home. I am blessed.

The first day's snow was a surprise. It hadn't been on the forecast, and trust me, I look online daily, and John checks the paper. I'm one of those people who lived without four seasons for so long that I celebrate each one (except Summer—I had enough of that one). I look for the signs and watch for snow. Also, since we do live a way from the stores, we only shop about once a week, and keep a list of what we're out of the rest of the time. If we see that snow is expected, we'll go ahead and shop early for things like eggs, milk, and bread.

I took a few photos from the decks, first the back deck, which is by the front door (above)...

Then by the front decks by the slide doors (below)...

I started some laundry, and then we headed out with the grocery store list to make sure we weren't going to run out of anything. It's silly, since we don't get all that much snow, but we like to be cautious. We also like to take the camera along. We ran into a small herd of elk right down the road, so I was glad we'd headed out with the camera in tow.

The next morning we were a little more prepared to see that it had snowed again, but I was a little amazed to see that it was still snowing. It snowed all day, in fact, and although our little community has its own road plows, the highways leading up to us didn't get cleared until very late in the day, so we were technically snowed in for part of the morning. (Did I care?) The overnight difference in our patio furniture's coverage was comical, but we won't be using it for months.

I enjoyed watching the snow come down all day. The great thing about living where we do is that through all the big windows we have an incredible view, and it never stops changing.

We had visitors, as always, and they never seem to mind if I take a photo or two (or ten).

They sure have grown this year. These are two of those that were born this Spring, believe it or not.

You can hardly see the fire pit, and I think it'll be awhile before we have any s'mores out here with our friends.

I went around and turned on the inside lights so the house would glow in the pre-dawn light. I love the camera I use because it's so good with low-level light. (It's a Panasonic Lumix DMC-FZ18.) These next photos were all taken just as dawn was breaking this morning, after another night of snow.

John was really pleased with me because when I was done tromping around with my camera I brought in his newspaper. I guess we each have our own priorities.

This is the deck on the other side of the house, and we're not likely to use it until Spring, either.

Nobody uses the swing, but I'm not climbing up there to take it down. Besides, it could be considered "atmosphere." I'm willing to share my atmosphere... It's supposed to keep snowing through tomorrow. I love this. I'm not saying I'd love it so much if I were raising little kids who had to be carted to school, or if were heading to work in it. I'm not dumb. I'm retired. I can sit back and enjoy it.

Writer's Retreat and Snowfall

The November writer's retreat put on by the Northern Colorado Writer's group was small but powerful. We took up two cottages at the Sylvan Dale Guest Ranch, about nine miles from our home. A writer's retreat is different from a conference. You don't sit through how-to lectures and workshops as you would in a conference.

Each person goes to a quiet, private spot and writes. There are times for discussion and helping each other, popcorn and movie night, meals together and such, but the primary focus is on writing. Well, I was editing, but it amounts to the same thing, although I've found that writing is MUCH EASIER than editing!

I was delighted with our time there and the wonderful and focused women of the group. The grounds were beautiful as well, but never more so than after the snow began to fall. I ended up having a couple of hikes through the snow with my cameras while working through ways to handle advice I didn't want to follow on my manuscript edits. (Sometimes it's almost impossible to tell good advice from bad, especially on your first book.) When I have to think things through, I walk, and if it's snowing—I walk in beauty. Here's the proof.

Lightning Strike

There's an old Boy Scout saying. You don't have to be able to run faster than the bear. You just have to be able to run faster than the slowest Boy Scout. We made a new saying here this evening. You don't have to be the lowest house in the foothills to avoid the lightning strike. You just have to be lower than Doug.

Poor Doug. He lives on the ridge, just above our home. He's our nicest neighbor. A greater guy is hard to find. He came home from work to an electrical disaster. While John and I were sitting here enjoying the late afternoon thunderstorm, we heard something we'd not heard before. The flash and boom came at the same time, and the house shook. John happened to be looking out the back window toward the ridge and saw the big flash.

Afraid of fire in the pines, he kept a good watch. Not seeing any smoke, he started wondering where the bolt had landed, and kept looking at Doug's house, worrying about our friend's electronics equipment. He, like John, is a HAM operator with a lot of expensive computer and radio equipment. When Doug came home he found out that it had indeed hit his house. There was no structural damage, but the electrical circuits had been fried, taking with it a computer, all the phones, and a beautiful high definition television.

He was still accessing damage when he decided to wander down and have someone to commiserate with him. He and John shared a beer while they discussed the number of things that Doug had already determined had been ruined, and the number of things he still had to check. Cost so far was closing in on three thousand dollars.

The sad thing is that all Doug's equipment was turned off, although it was plugged in. I had my computer open and operational, and the television was running. Actually, I was also on the phone. We were certainly blessed, because I couldn't have replaced anything but the phones. I wonder if homeowners insurance covers this. I don't think so. Isn't it considered an act of God? Why not an act of the devil? That makes more sense to me.

My only complaint for myself this day is spending four hours trying to download my video files and not being able to figure out how to do it. Ben made it seem so simple, too...

Identifying Colorado Wildflowers

Driving home from the store yesterday, my husband and I had one of those interesting and oh, so memorable conversations.

"I love seeing all the different wildflowers out this late in the year. It's because of the rain, right?"

"Right. Did you ever learn all the names? Didn't you buy a Colorado wildflower book?"

"I did. Well... I kind of learned them."

A period of silence followed while I waited in vain for him to ask me what "kind of" meant. Finally I explained without him asking.

"There are some yellow ones with black centers. There are some big white ones. There are the gold ones. There are the tall purple ones. I see the little gold ones, too."

"Sounds like you're learning the names really fast," he said. He never even cracked a smile.

The Power and the Glory

Tonight a thunderstorm is flashing around the heavens, crashing amid the rain, the crown on a spectacular day. For some reason, weather like this always makes me think of the Biblical expression "the power and the glory." It's like an expression of God's might to me. We're all aware, or should be, that weather can be violent and dangerous. From the comfort and safety of home, though, it's beautiful beyond belief.

Some wonderful things happened today. My cousin Joe and his wife Wendy were here from Wisconsin. This is my Aunt Cookie's oldest son, and we shared bison chili and memories, sat outside and breathed in the beautiful 82 degree weather. It was a fine day, made all the sweeter by their rare visit.

When the day had ended, and promises made to other friends necessitated their departure, we piled into the car together. As we drove past the house next to ours, we passed several does and a few young bucks. There, tucked into their midst were the two baby fawns, curled up by their mama for a rest. All is well in Bambi's thicket.

I love a Hollywood ending.

Finding a Decent Babysitter

It's so difficult to find a diligent babysitter. I'm not sure it's ever been easy. Some mothers have a wonderful partner who can share in those duties, but others must use every care when leaving their babies with the head of the family.

He might be more interested in eating than watching his precious offspring. The little one might wander off without big daddy even being overly concerned.

He might not even notice how quickly the little guy can move.

For the mother of twins, the problem is doubled. Even those super dads who can manage one baby will often bolt when faced with the responsibility of two at a time. Often twins can need more than twice the attention, because they tend to bounce off of each other.

Another problem arises because they often eat and sleep on their own individual schedules. Therefore, while one of these little beauties ran out of the gate and left the yard, without Daddy even noticing, the other calmly lay down for a little nap. Dad continued nibbling his way through the lower bushes in the yard nearby.

He stopped by to look at the one resting, then wandered off and out of the yard. I kept expecting him to come back. After all, the other baby had disappeared around the other corner of the house and I hadn't seen him in about five minutes. Daddy didn't seem concerned. I started looking for the Mama. This was a good story and all, but these babies were pretty new.

Waking up, the first thing the youngster did was look for his twin. Nap time had only lasted about five minutes, but when he stretched and walked to the fence, he found that not only was his twin gone, but Daddy was as well.

He ran along the fence rails, looking for Daddy or somebody—anybody besides me up on the deck watching with my camera clicking.

He didn't ask me for help. Maybe I looked too dumb. He asked others.

"Did you see where my Daddy went?" I'm sure he was asking.

"Nope. I just few in. He wasn't here when I got here. Sorry," said the Robin.

"Who, me? Nope. Those guys all look the same to me," said the bunny.

So he jumped the fence and ran in the direction his daddy the buck had taken. I hope he caught up with him, or found the herd. I knew better than to try to keep him, but felt kind of helpless. About ten minutes later, I heard a coughing sound and looked down. Guess who?

"Hi, Mama!" I yelled down. I took her photo, since I was still holding the camera. She stood there looking at me, and I pointed down the hill and said, "They went that way, but he lost one of your babies," and I pointed behind the house. She nodded her head (I swear she did, even though I know she didn't understand me) and in a few giant leaps and bounds had run out of the yard and down the hill on the same basic route the Daddy and one following twin had taken.

I know myself well enough to know I'll worry a bit until I see them again. (Who could make this stuff up? You left too soon, Stacey!)

Celebrating Guests

It's just impossible to explain how much joy there is when a visit comes together just right. This has been one of those special times, when a guest just clicked. If we could keep Stacey here longer, we would. It's been fun, but too short, and with her leaving tomorrow, today just flew by much too quickly.

It's amazing how many memories can be shared in a few short days. There were things I hadn't thought of in nearly ten years, like the gag gift of an ugly (we're talking really pathetic) dress Tighe bought her for her graduation. Of course, he had some wonderful jewelry stashed away, but she proved how polite she could be before she ever got to see that. She opened the dress in front of her entire family (and me) at a party in her honor, and was as gracious as anyone could ever ask a person to be. More so, if you had seen the dress.

Besides laughing and eating (yes, there was plenty of that), game playing and sight seeing, we just enjoyed being together. It was a good diversion for all of us, and I hope it gave Stacey time to recharge her batteries before heading back for the job hunt. Her teaching position had been eliminated in the downsized budget in Newbury Park, CA, so she's been interviewing. That's not a lot of fun. I'm going to end up this piece with the promised photos, showing that we gave her some smiles while she was here. I hope she had enough to take some home with her.

You know the way here, now, Stacey. Don't be shy.

Benson Park:
Some day I should make a collage of all my friends romping with this ring of children. They're all such good sports to jump into the ring and play when John asks them to. (Now, who could say no to John?) Besides, if he didn't ask, I would.

This quiet old gentleman is one of my favorites. I'm glad Tighe sat down with him. My telephoto lens was perfect for capturing him from far away, but I was unable to catch any of their conversation.

Like me, Stacey really seemed to appreciate the native sculptures. There is a majesty to some of them that goes beyond strength and beauty. I find myself going back to stare at this one every time we visit the park.

Last night's BBQ rib dinner was good, and the ribs kept falling off the bones, so we nearly didn't have our s'mores. It was pretty dark by the time the marshmallows and Hershey bars got anywhere near the graham crackers. It's a good thing my camera works so nicely after dark. (Thanks, Jeremy, for the recommendation of the Lumix!) It was the end of a fine day, even if we did eat too much.

Some things are worth doing two at a time.

This is the spot we picked out for our picnic at the Rocky Mountain National Park. Before we drove up here, though, we stopped at Estes Park and walked through the Scandinavian Festival. We got to watch some folk dancing and hear some music, as well as see some crafts. I always go straight for the pottery. I'm hopeless.

The streams are all full this year. We've had a good amount of rain, most of it falling in the late afternoon and evening, which is mighty convenient if you ask me. Temperatures have been in the low 80s at our home, but were about ten degrees cooler up in the park. It takes us about forty minutes to get there from home.

I know these people. It's Tighe and Stacey, posing in front of the snow. It wasn't the snowiest peak around, but it was the one they were standing in front of, so that's where I took the photo. I hate moving people around if they're smiling where they are. It seems like that's more important than the background.

I think it's time to replace that bra. I mean, that's me with Stacey. I guess I look like I'm in my 60s. At least I'm not having to color my hair yet. I'm glad you can't see the big dent in my forehead from the cupboard door I bashed into that morning. We smiled so much my cheeks hurt tonight.

This was Stacey's last sunset here, so I wanted to make sure she got a photo of it. Unfortunately, I waited a little too long, so I missed some of the color, especially in the foothills under the sky. Well, it looked much better in person. Happy trails, Stacey.