Lost an old friend, gained a new one – West Highland White Terrier puppy, Jewel

Our dear Munchkin finally gave in to congestive heart failure in late July.  We sort of ran a nursing home all summer when I was off work.  Took her out to pottie every hour.  She could barely get herself up at the end.  I can write about it now, but at the time I could barely think about it.  Here is Munchkin.

Passed away July 17, 2012, age 11. Our dear girl.

We have had Jazz and Munchkin, our pack, for six years.  Jazz replaced Taylor, a Schnauzer who died when Munchkin was a youngster.  Now Jazz is the big brother and he has been lonely.

Feeling lonely.

Enter Jewel.

Four pounds of terror (I mean terrier) on legs.  

She is smart.  She is very fast.  She is a darling and our house is jumping with puppyness.  We took all of the area rugs downstairs for the winter so that we only have to deal with hardwood floors.  We have doggie doors and she can already use them but we worry about hawks and owls snatching her away and so we do not let her go out alone.  It is a lot of work, but Jazz is energized.

Pretending to sleep.

It’s good to have a puppy in the house.

Bear

I haven’t take nearly enough pictures of my little man, but here are a few…

He’s a beefy boy!

And he can be very funny…

Here he is as a four year old stud.  He still thinks he’s all that and a bag of chips but I keep telling him he is all that and a bag of Double Stuffed Vanilla Oreo Cookies

Riding Dome Rock State Park Trail

Our group of riders escaped the heat of the lower altitudes to spend the day at Dome Rock State Park.  This is near Divide, Colorado.

If one does not have a horse it would be quite a trek, but we saw a number of folks doing just that.  The trail is about five miles in and another five miles back.  One can enter through the valley and backtrack or ride the full loop.  It begins in high mountain paradise, a stream snaking through the valley, taking many pathways and filling every space save the huge boulders flanking it with lush grasses and rushes. We crossed the stream about seven times.  Bear did a flawless job of plunging into the water, up to the belly in some places.

Fearless!

At the end of the valley there is a ruin of Jack Rabbit Lodge.  Only the stone chimney remains.

Then, turning a corner, Dome Rock comes into view.  The enormity of this granite extrusion took away my breath.  Birds of prey hung on the breeze.  The sky was like a bottomless ocean.  This is a place to see!

The route back, taking the entire loop, is UP HILL.  And I mean that!  My puir wee pony!!!  What a climb.

We left the valley, got to the top of a ridge behind Dome Rock and dropped into a high country meadow filled with Aspen, shivering in the breeze.  Absolute peace.

Waldo Canyon Fire

http://www.huffingtonpost.com/2012/07/05/waldo-canyon-fire-2012-ph_n_1652159.html#slide=more236250

The day that a friend from San Diego left to return home after a wonderful visit, the Waldo Canyon Fire attacked Colorado Springs.  She and I were just concluding a fabulous tour of the Yves St. Laurent exhibit at the Denver Art Museum (oh so cool if you did not see it) when my cell phone buzzed.  It was my daughter calling from The Springs.  She was animated beyond normal, sharing that a fire had begun above the area where she lives, in Manitou Springs.  I dropped my friend at DIA and booked for home.  The following seven days terrorized the Front Range.  Temperatures broke all records, topping 100 most days.  We watched the flanks of the Rocky Mountains spew smoke in daylight and glow in the darkness.

Our daughter evacuated from her area the first day and decided to remain with us, even after the evacuation for Manitou was lifted.  She lives in the dormer rooms of an old Victorian house, no AC, windows that barely work with no screens.  Needless to say, the jitters over a possible firestorm down that canyon combined with the stifling conditions pointed to hunkering down in our basement room where it is cool.  We were tuned to KKTV all day long, watching the progress of the fire.  I started a quilt for somebody.  It turned out that I was able to give it to a little girl, Emma, who had her first birthday on June 26th, the day that the fire burned the home in which her family was living.  Her parents were on TV spots nation wide.  I thought it would be a nice thing, for Emma, to know that people were thinking about her and her family on that day, even though she may be too young right now to really grasp the situation.  This quilt will be a possession that anchors the memory and supports the story, for her.  I wish her family well in coping with their displacement and the same to each of those who lost both homes and personal possessions.

As we watched the fire grow, in earlier days, we had commented more than once that if anything goes, it will be Rockrimron.   That fear was realized on the afternoon of June 26th.

By the time it was over 346 homes burned to the ground and over 20,000 people were evacuated.  

I include only a few pictures to give an idea of the scene.  Only one was taken by me and that is the sunset, streaked with the fire’s red and gold.  The others came from various sources, some from the Gazette, some from individuals who posted them, and some from Associated Press, in particular photographer Carolyn Kaster.  I tried unsuccessfully to gain permission to post her photos and so I here give her credit.

The fire fighters became our heroes.

This photograph of our president is a Carolyn Kaster photo for sure.

I love that our president came to Colorado Springs, just to shake the hands of the fire fighters and the evacuated people.

Bed and Breakfast in Salida – San Isabel B&B for the weekend…

Our summer get-away last year took us to Twin Lakes (I never posted because the pictures were on DH’s camera and I never managed to get them onto my computer, sorry) .  On the way home, we took the longer route to go through Salida.  “This,” I exclaimed, “is where we need to visit next year!”  In fact, I was so smitten that I told everybody we would move there, eventually.

I packed some tasty treats, including a homemade pie filled with blackberries, raspberries, strawberries, and blueberries.  Paul picked out a flight of Caffero Zinfandels.  I brought things to stitch and things to read.  We left on Friday, late morning, on a short drive to Salida, bent on relaxation.  Our hosts were Cam and Dick, Lucy and Cleo.  Lucy is the official Inn Dog.

Cleo supervises in a more reserved manner, but warms up in her own good time.  Cam and Dick were, of course, welcoming from the get-go.  Friday was a Positively Perfect Colorado day.  We found a parking spot by the park in Salida;  This  I later discovered was dumb luck because the place was packed for FIBARK – First In Boats on the Arkansas River – Festival.  We had no idea we were there for the festival.  We just wanted to visit.  BUT… Friday evening was live Rege on the riverfront.  It was really very nice.  People of every ilk were out with 1968 attire and hula hoops, dancing, drinking beer, and eating wild things.  When it was time for Talking Heads to perform, we stole away to stroll the street vendors and thence back to our lodging.

Our Mexican lunch in Buena Vista held us well so we did not go out for dinner.  Instead, under the massive rough hewn pergola on the patio at San Isabel B&B we shared sliced fresh tomatoes, chunks of very good Cheddar and Swiss, a loaf of sourdough and David Caffero 2005 Zinfandel.  Later, Razzelberry Pie, another glass of wine, and hot tub relaxation under the stars.  Sigh…

On Saturday we took a road trip up to the Mountain Spirit Winery past Poncha Springs.  From there, we followed our noses straight up a mountain, descending into the lush valleys around Gunnison.   That is a grand little town.  Far less congested than Salida during FIBARK!  We shopped at Treads and Threads (just go there!) and had lunch at the Firebrand Deli on Main Street.  Back over the mountain, stopping only for a tee shirt at the summit of Monarch Pass.

Again, a quiet dinner of cheese and wine, crackers, tomatoes, and more of that pie.

 
We stalked the sunset off the deck of San Isabel.  

Magic, innocence, and wonder…

Work was work, racing toward 4:00, and then sitting out the final 15 minutes in an endless stretch of voices and phone calls.  I should be able to leave at 4:00, but this seldom happens.  It took far too long to get to the car.  By 5:15 I was finally pulling up in front of the barn.  A south blowing breeze that had been gently pulsing all day flipped.  The breeze became wind, gusting out of the north.  Heavy dull clouds pushed southward, clinging to the Front Range of the Rockies like sludge in a gutter that catches in rough spots, forming masses in unlikely places.  Not one of us could stem the force of the front.  Not horses or people or dogs.  The trees submitted, shifting above us.  Barn doors shuddered.  Stray wisps of dry grass hay danced along.  The weather in Colorado is like a magic show.  Now you see it, now you don’t.  First you will and then you won’t.

I debated only a little.  If it rains, it rains!  I thought, I will be like the trees, standing my ground, but ready to bend to the will of Mother Nature.  I ran out to the pasture to find Bear.  He heard me calling and came to me – this is the first time.  He is beginning to live in my world.  He doesn’t run anymore.  He recognizes my sounds.  He moves with me, capturing my touches.  There is no communication like the language of voiceless innocence, of unadulterated longing and appreciation.  It’s like being in love.

I saddled him quickly, dispensing with the ritual of grooming beyond the bare basics.  If it should rain, I thought, I want to be in the saddle so that I will not quit.  He trotted alongside of me, out to the arena.  His body is turning sleek with good grass hay and grain.  I watched his muscles move under his golden hide as he walked.  His breath blew warm, like the wind.  Sitting on my horse, I felt a part of something indescribably wondrous, almost mythical.  It would not have surprised me to feel wings unfolding behind my thighs.  I felt him move and imagined us flying.  Steady, smooth, pushing the thickly gathered clouds aside and mounting into the atmosphere.  There is nothing in the world like the feeling of being one with a thousand pounds of horseflesh;  moving effortlessly through space, forging a rhythmic connection into the earth.

Montage – The day before Mother’s Day from Many Pespectives

The afternoon before Mother’s Day turned in circles, like a dog winding its body into an ever tightening coil, searching for a perfect position before plopping down to rest.  All I want is a movie, potatoes, onions, and maybe some fruit.  I saw strawberries when I walked in.  The display is massive and there were people swarming all around it, choosing one plastic container, putting it down and picking up another.  I edge in to grab two.  I just need berries to go on cereal next week.  The potatoes and onions are on the same table, which makes grabbing bags of them easier.  A double deep line at the Red Box convinces me to forego the movie that I came for.  Ge me outa here!  For all that I want to be home already, a little girl swims upstream, the opposite direction, into the market.

The girl’s brain is chanting the lyrics of a pop song and considering the awkwardness of marching into a grocery store with her father.  Mom always knows what she wants.  Dad is funny about shopping.  He’s looking at dishes and rice cookers in a grocery store!  We need a card and flowers.  He got strawberries so I told him to get Cool Whip and yellow cakes.  It’s full with people today.  Everybody wants something special for their mother.  I wish we could get Pop Tarts.  Mom really likes Pop Tarts.  The girl grips her father’s hand and tugs him along, trying to move faster.  Her eyes scan the check out lines for the shortest one, and she suddenly shrinks against the pant leg beside her.  A stout old lady is looking straight at her.  She seems frozen, all except her wet blue eyes.

I forgot that it might be busy today, the old lady mumbles wordlessly.  Tomorrow is Mother’s Day and I never thought about it at all.  The kids will call tomorrow.  I better stay home.  There are so many people in the store.  Carts everywhere.  Maybe I should come back another day.  She sees that the shortest route out of the store is toward the back, because lines are clogging the front aisle.  She patiently makes her way toward the butcher’s display case.  Mounds of fish are reflected in the curved glass of the case.  She briefly considers buying a piece of fish for supper, but swings around to head down a side aisle, determined to exit the market with all dispatch.

The butcher is smiling.  I like days like this.  People pick nice things.  They splurge.  Men who never buy fish at all want salmon fillets or lobster.  They don’t know how much to buy, so they tell me “Enough for four.”  I can do that.  They look around, their eyes traveling from catchy color coordinated displays to the cold case.  They don’t know what to buy but they know what they want.  Something special.  Something from the kids, but from them, too.  I don’t think anybody knows what the right thing will be but they know they need a right thing.  Everybody has a mother.  How can you NOT do something special for mothers on Mother’s Day?