Aspen

Never Have I Ever

October 19, 2026 by Nancy Leave a Comment

Never have I ever lived in a house with a big, wrap-around porch and a long staircase for stacking pumpkins on each step. I’ve been blessed to live in some nice, comfortable homes in my lifetime, but nope. Not one with a big front porch like that. Still that never stopped me from carving pumpkins with my boys when they were young or from creating smaller displays of pumpkins, mums, and Indian corn over the years. October brings all those memories back, and more.

For instance, never have I ever traveled through New England to take in the fall colors everyone exclaims about in Vermont or Maine. I’ve seen photos. I know they are multi-colored and awe-inspiring, but never have I ever seen them with my own eyes.

I did, however, see the multi-colored leaves in the Smoky Mountains of Tennessee every year for the first twenty years of my life. And for almost 50 years now I’ve watched with anticipation for the first hint of gold in the Colorado aspen, knowing that the glorious golden show they put on annually is about to appear. It never gets old driving up in to the mountains to see the aspen groves aglow or gaze at a mountain side with pockets of gold gleaming amidst the evergreens. And we do get some color here, too! The red maples offer bright contrast and the foothills covered in scrub oak look like a patchwork quilt is being pulled up over their shoulders in preparation for winter. I’m not too deprived after all.

Fall is a wonderful time for hiking. Never have I ever hiked to the top of Pike’s Peak, America’s Mountain that towers over Colorado Springs where I live. But I have hiked on parts of it, and I’ve ridden to the top on the cog railroad and gotten to see the marmots that live among the rocks above tree line. Hot chocolate and homemade donuts at the Visitor Center are more my speed these days than climbing 14,115 feet, so I guess I’ll never do it, but I’m proud of everyone I know who reached the top on two legs.

Never have I ever been a barrel racer at a rodeo or ridden in to the arena in a sequined outfit on a white horse as “The Girl of the West,” but I grew up with a horse named Dolly who was my best friend, and I took riding lessons from my talented equestrian granddaughter in my seventies.

Never have I ever seen the dancing lights of the aurora borealis, but many times “I’ve seen it rainin’ fire in the sky” as John Denver sang. Never have I ever swum with dolphins, but I’ve been on a boat in the midst of a super pod of 2,000 dolphins with tears running down my face at the sheer majesty of them. Never have I ever played hockey, but I once got to drive a Zamboni!

There are so many “nevers” I could mention, but those of us in the autumn of our lives will be happier thinking about all the things we’ve been blessed to experience rather than regretting what we may have missed. And if there’s one thing I’ve learned it’s to “never say never.” Many of the things we haven’t seen or done could still happen. So stay ready!

Make it Mine

October 12, 2021 by Nancy 25 Comments

This is my forty-fourth fall living in Colorado. Forty-four years of aspen gaspin’ drives and hikes through the golden glow of quaking aspen. Yet I have to say this year’s hike may be the most memorable. Once you hike a trail you can stake a claim to it! I’m glad I made this one mine.

Friends had clipped a description of the Vindicator Valley Trail from the Colorado Springs Gazette a while ago—one of the finds from adventure reporter Seth Boster. They invited us to join them so we set out on a partly overcast, breezy but nice fall day toward the historic mining town of Victor, Colorado.

The trail was easy to find just off County Road 81 and has been well maintained by the nonprofits that support it. As advertised, it not only provides gorgeous vistas of aspen, but also educational discoveries at every turn as hikers stop to read the historical markers and see the remains of gold mines that saw their glory days in the late 1800s.

The two-mile hike up hill and down at 10,200 feet in elevation did exercise my body, but it was my imagination that got the best workout. I had forgotten how many of the old mines were named for women, and I couldn’t help but wonder who these women were, and how they felt about having a gold mine named after them.

Was Theresa someone’s beloved wife, perhaps a mail order bride from back East who responded to an ad to marry a rich gold miner out West? Or did the miner who went into Victor to file his claim slap a piece of gold ore on the bar and tell the barmaid in her flouncy skirt and bustier (like Miss Kitty in Gunsmoke), “I just found me some gold, Theresa! And I’m naming the mine after you!” How would she have responded as she poured whiskey into the glass he held in his gritty hands? And did he expect something in return? Without doing a lot more research, I can only imagine.

Maybe Annie J. was the darling granddaughter of a mine supervisor. A little girl with golden curls who loved to visit the mine with her grandpa, her little hand in his, as he checked on the day’s yield. And what about Glorietta? Was she someone’s grandma known for her beans and biscuits, or a sister who died too young from consumption? Surely Lillie was a dance hall performer. Or not. I’d love to know.

At the end of the trail we were amused to find a sign with an oft used miner’s toast: “May you stand in ore and your labors be in vein.” And may you venture out on Vindicator Valley Trail yourself some golden aspen day. It’s a wonderful reminder of what’s still good about living in Colorado. You may want to include visits to nearby Victor and Cripple Creek, too. Make the golden adventure yours.

Aspen Gaspin’

September 22, 2012 by Nancy 16 Comments

(A classic column becomes a blog post.)

Fall is the time of year when trees dress in their best and demand our undivided attention. Two magnificent maple trees are rooted in my memory. One stands outside my childhood bedroom window in Tennessee. I call it my “thinking tree,” because I spent hours draped in its limbs pondering life. The other was dubbed “Mom’s Tree,” because for four years I sought it out on my son’s Midwestern college campus and took its picture. I’m sure it’s still there, watching over the backpacked students shuffling by with their minds on anything but leaves.

Those of us with such trees, such multi-colored falls, in our memories are fortunate. Yet those of us in Colorado try not to let those memories diminish our enjoyment of our fantastic Colorado falls. After all, other people have to motor for miles to marvel at the contrast of an expanse of golden aspen against the deep evergreen of the pines. We live here and can be gaspin’ at the sight of a stand of aspen in minutes.

Certainly these trees deserve our respect. When aspen gaspin’ season arrives, they have to put up with a great deal of abuse. Imagine the conversation two aspen trees might have when they first see the line of cars and RVs snaking its way up the mountain pass:

“Oh, boy. Here they come again. Start quaking.”

“I’m quaking…I’m quaking. There’s that couple with the yippy dog climbing out of their RV. Didn’t we see them last year?”

“Yeah. Gee, they’ve put on some weight. Maybe they should climb up here to see us instead of standing by the road with their binoculars.”

“Not with that dog! Hey, what’s a peak? According to these people we’re always before it, at it, or past it.”

“Who cares. I’m just glad they all leave before we’re standing here stark naked with them gawking at us. That would really be embarrassing.”

This year I intend to fully enjoy our Colorado fall, to get out of the car and hike through the trees. Whatever day I arrive will be the peak day for me. I’ll keep those magnificent maple trees in my memory where they belong, but our glorious Colorado aspen deserve nothing less than my full, unmitigated admiration. This year, they’ll get it.