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Golden Mountain of Leave
Sep. 29th, 2023 09:46 pmThe new day began when I got to the last of a series of awakenings, and realized it was already getting light. I was so excited I had to get up, even though my body was still a wreck from too much travel. We were both beat, but managed to stagger up and into our clothes in time to go next door and visit with Fritz and Peach, who had arrived late last night. We made our way to an excellent breakfast restaurant, where I had an aromatic and restorative latte in a big cup, and ate about half of some tasty huevos rancheros. I used to eat that a lot in Kansas and Texas, but it doesn't have the same zest in Michigan. The day was just as astonishingly beautiful as it was yesterday, and my head was on a swivel, glancing from sky to earth, up and down the gaily painted slopes and the ranks of golden trees whispering to me along every pathway.
Baby Doc had exhorted us to visit the art museum and the next door gallery, where our kind hostess had some of her artwork on display. She owns the two condos we and Fritz are staying in, and lives in her super duper camper van when the condos are in use. She is also a very talented photographer. Her pictures are not mere postcard photos, but somehow capture the spirit of glory and mystery that lives in these landscapes, as well as the mere color of its forms. After breakfast we all drove downtown, somewhat miraculously found parking, and browsed the art. Alas, the museum was closed for the day, but we found a matted photo small enough to be carried safely home (we hope!) and bought it as a tribute and remembrance. Then we meandered down the street, pausing to browse again in various shops. We found some huckleberry honey to put in our tea. Eventually we came down to the Yampa River and the trail that runs along it. The views from the bridge were spectacular. Alas, by then the Sparrowhawk had about used up his energy quota, and we had to go home without hiking further. It was time to leave downtown anyway, as the homecoming parade was about to begin.
We tried to take a nap. The Sparrowhawk succeeded; I did not. Eventually I got up and went for a stroll through the neighborhood to a small nearby shopping center, where I bought some milk and cream so we could make tea and coffee at will, half a loaf of bread, a stick of butter, a small cheese, a pint of ice cream, and two apples. It's always nice to be able to have toast or an apple if sustenance seems necessary and a trip to a restaurant seems wearisome. My walk was slowed down by having to stop and stare every other minute. I'm in a parking lot next to a grocery store, and any time I raise my eyes, the golden mountainsides are singing their silent exhortations to rejoice. Back home, alas, I was still miserable and couldn't even imagine going out somewhere. I reluctantly decided another nap was the only option. It actually worked this time. When I awoke the light was fading, but we still had time to drive to the Botanic Garden where the wedding will take place, just to make sure we know the way. We only had time to peek in, but it's going to be lovely. Along the way I learned that the golden trees that weren't aspens were narrow-leaf cottonwoods. Ah! That makes perfect sense.
We then drove back downtown to meet the wedding party for a post-rehearsal drink, as invited. I decided no more alcohol! Fritz concurred--he ordered a root beer and I got the house-made grape soda. It was grapey and full-flavored. There were a few remnants from the rehearsal dinner at the buffet--pulled pork, cornbread, and mac and cheese. They were out of plates and forks, but I fetched a small portion atop a napkin, and we ate it with a spoon while enjoying conversation with Fritz and Peach and their son and daughter-in-law. We stayed for a couple of hours, until it grew cold and the full moon rose, shining wondrously. Fritz and Peach said the moon gave them so much light last night that their drive was not too arduous. Drinking lots of water and not eating or drinking much else, plus naps, seems to have improved our condition quite a bit. If we can just sleep tonight, we'll be in good shape for the festivities!
Baby Doc had exhorted us to visit the art museum and the next door gallery, where our kind hostess had some of her artwork on display. She owns the two condos we and Fritz are staying in, and lives in her super duper camper van when the condos are in use. She is also a very talented photographer. Her pictures are not mere postcard photos, but somehow capture the spirit of glory and mystery that lives in these landscapes, as well as the mere color of its forms. After breakfast we all drove downtown, somewhat miraculously found parking, and browsed the art. Alas, the museum was closed for the day, but we found a matted photo small enough to be carried safely home (we hope!) and bought it as a tribute and remembrance. Then we meandered down the street, pausing to browse again in various shops. We found some huckleberry honey to put in our tea. Eventually we came down to the Yampa River and the trail that runs along it. The views from the bridge were spectacular. Alas, by then the Sparrowhawk had about used up his energy quota, and we had to go home without hiking further. It was time to leave downtown anyway, as the homecoming parade was about to begin.
We tried to take a nap. The Sparrowhawk succeeded; I did not. Eventually I got up and went for a stroll through the neighborhood to a small nearby shopping center, where I bought some milk and cream so we could make tea and coffee at will, half a loaf of bread, a stick of butter, a small cheese, a pint of ice cream, and two apples. It's always nice to be able to have toast or an apple if sustenance seems necessary and a trip to a restaurant seems wearisome. My walk was slowed down by having to stop and stare every other minute. I'm in a parking lot next to a grocery store, and any time I raise my eyes, the golden mountainsides are singing their silent exhortations to rejoice. Back home, alas, I was still miserable and couldn't even imagine going out somewhere. I reluctantly decided another nap was the only option. It actually worked this time. When I awoke the light was fading, but we still had time to drive to the Botanic Garden where the wedding will take place, just to make sure we know the way. We only had time to peek in, but it's going to be lovely. Along the way I learned that the golden trees that weren't aspens were narrow-leaf cottonwoods. Ah! That makes perfect sense.
We then drove back downtown to meet the wedding party for a post-rehearsal drink, as invited. I decided no more alcohol! Fritz concurred--he ordered a root beer and I got the house-made grape soda. It was grapey and full-flavored. There were a few remnants from the rehearsal dinner at the buffet--pulled pork, cornbread, and mac and cheese. They were out of plates and forks, but I fetched a small portion atop a napkin, and we ate it with a spoon while enjoying conversation with Fritz and Peach and their son and daughter-in-law. We stayed for a couple of hours, until it grew cold and the full moon rose, shining wondrously. Fritz and Peach said the moon gave them so much light last night that their drive was not too arduous. Drinking lots of water and not eating or drinking much else, plus naps, seems to have improved our condition quite a bit. If we can just sleep tonight, we'll be in good shape for the festivities!
