Colorado

Maybe it’s May

May 18, 2023 by Nancy 13 Comments

For those who may not know, we don’t really have a spring season in Colorado. As a friend of mine said, what we have is “winter wrestling with summer.” Eventually summer wins, but not without a struggle.

In March I begin to see Facebook posts from friends on the East Coast or in the South showcasing their crocuses, tulips and daffodils bursting with color. Soon the photos are of azaleas, dogwoods and redbuds in full bloom. Should I look up from their photos to gaze out my window, however, I’m more likely to see snow falling—not apple blossom petals, but real snow!

I try to be a good sport, and I’ve certainly been here long enough to know what to expect. The survival rules include not switching your closet over to lighter weight clothes too soon, or holding back a couple of turtleneck sweaters and some heavy jeans if you do. And never taking your coat to the cleaners. You’re just asking for a blizzard if you do that! So we wash the flannel sheets but put them back on the bed. We keep the snow boots in the front closet. We tell ourselves “we need the moisture.” And we wait.

Long ago my husband decided it was best to send me off to a location with real spring rather than to watch my stiff upper lip quivering for two months, and for that I’m grateful. This year my friend Kathy and I took a long road trip to Texas—emphasis on long. Wearily stepping out of the car in Waco, I immediately noticed the rejuvenating smell of green.

The next day we visited Magnolia Market. There and all over town the magnolia trees were in full bloom and the gardens were spectacular. After passing brown fields one after the other in Colorado and New Mexico, we were breathing in spring! Our next stop was to visit our friend Jimmie in Tyler, the rose capital of Texas. She took us to a wonderful rose garden, and we enjoyed seeing everything blooming in her yard and sat by her pool. All together it was the perfect cure for our winter blues.

Of course there are good things about our non-spring, too. If kids on spring break aren’t heading off to Florida or Arizona with their parents they may go skiing. Spring skiing is something to be experienced at least once in life. It’s not uncommon to see girls skiing in bikini tops or shirtless young men in shorts. This time of year at high altitude the sun is warm and the snow is slushy but cold. As skiers near the bottom of the slope the aroma of brats and hamburgers on an outdoor grill wafts up to meet them. Ahh! Not bad at all.

And the spring snow is pretty. During one April snowstorm this year a bright yellow goldfinch paid us a visit just to say, “Don’t worry. Warmer weather is on the way!” Already I see signs that summer may soon have winter on the mat. Our grass is finally starting to green up and the little crabapple tree in our front yard is in its God-given glory. Maybe it is May at last.

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.

What’s So August About August?

August 28, 2019 by Nancy 18 Comments

To describe someone or something as august means you believe the person or event to have great importance, inspire reverence or admiration, or be worthy of respect. The long list of synonyms for august includes: distinguished, eminent, venerable, hallowed, illustrious, acclaimed, esteemed, impressive, magnificent, majestic, and lordly. Whew!

So why is the eighth month of the year called August? Evidently the Roman Senate changed the name of this month in an attempt to curry favor with Caesar Augustus, who completed the calendar reforms begun by Julius Caesar.

But does this last full month of summer merit its moniker? What’s so august about August? How does it inspire reverence or admiration? Oh, let me count the ways!

First of all, August is the month when summer reaches its fullness. It’s the month when the Black-eyed Susans, Colorado’s “lilies of the field,” flourish on the roadsides and spring up in the most unexpected places. In fact, it’s the month when beauty abounds.

Sweet little peach Andie gets ready to sample a Palisade peach! — Sweet peach Andie with a Palisade peach!

Recently we were invited to the home of friends who live in the Black Forest area of Colorado Springs in a wonderful log home surrounded by evergreen trees and lovely woodland gardens. As I gazed at their planters overflowing with blossoms of every color, and heard and watched the hummingbirds cavorting around their feeders, I breathed in the balmy evening air and thought, “Now this is summer. This is August.” Definitely a moment of reverence and admiration.

August is also the month of harvest. The month when we can find rows and rows of colorful, fresh produce at the farmers’ markets instead of just the vendors with their homemade soaps and honeys. In Colorado, August is the month we finally get to feast on Olathe sweet corn, juicy Palisade peaches, and Rocky Ford cantaloupe. All venerably acclaimed for their delicious, rich flavors. One might even describe the first taste of each as magnificent!

Liam and Peter in 2013. — Liam and Peter years ago!

And then there are all the darling “back to school” photos on Facebook and Instagram. Are those moments captured of great importance? Oh yes. How distinguished the children look in their new school clothes, toting backpacks with zippers that work. The hope that shines on those little faces that this year they will find a place to sit at lunch, make a new friend, like their teacher, and get to the bus on time, is hallowed for sure. And the loud, collective sigh of relief from all the parents once school is back in session could surely be described as impressive! Even those of us who remember when school didn’t start until after Labor Day have to admit that an important event like starting a new school year fits nicely in a month called August.

So we revere and respect you, August. We even dub you lordly because only the Lord who is the Creator of all could give us such an illustrious month! Come back next year, OK?

On Becoming a Mountain Mama

August 14, 2017 by Nancy 18 Comments

As of this month I’ve been a resident of Colorado for 40 years. As I thought about writing a blog about my transformation from a Tennessee girl to a Colorado mountain mama, I remembered a column I wrote for the Gazette on the occasion of my 20th Anniversary as a Coloradoan! So here it is again.

This month I’ve been a resident of Colorado for twenty years. Twenty falls gilded in aspen leaves. Twenty winters gazing at snow-covered mountains resembling pink cotton candy in the early morning light. Twenty summers of hot days under bright blue skies, and cool nights under a canopy of stars.

Although there’s nothing magical about the number twenty, it forces me to reconsider my status as a Tennessean just passing through. Tennessee will always be home. It only takes an instant to transport myself back to steamy Southern summers where the air is heady with honeysuckle as I sit on the back porch watching for the first lightning bugs to reveal their flight paths. Racing barefooted across the dewy grass to catch one of them in tiny, cupped hands is a memory every child should have.

Those are the summers of my youth, and I’ll always be able to recall them. But more and more frequently I find myself contemplating all I would miss if I couldn’t spend summer here in Colorado.

The Summer of ‘77, I didn’t care. I thought this was the most desolate place I had ever seen, and I couldn’t imagine being exiled here forever. The hot August winds blew through the house and threatened to blow the drapes right off their rods, so I closed the windows. Then, since there was no air-conditioning, I was just sure we would all suffocate.

But soon the fields around our house were full of Black-eyed Susans as far as I could see. I remember walking the dog through those fields and feeling like I was part of a movie set. Just that simply, the twenty-year courtship began.

As if to entice me into declaring Colorado my home state, the Summer of ’97 is especially enchanting. Due to generous spring snows, the roadsides are greener than I’ve ever seen them. On a June road trip, we saw fields of yucca so plush it looked like a marching band in plumed hats was parading toward us. We drove past newborn foals frolicking behind their mothers and sheep lounging in beds of wildflowers.

I think we all come to love what we know. It occurs to me that I know Colorado. I know things like where to buy night crawlers in Cotapaxi or copper pots in Frisco. I know where the picnic tables are on our favorite ski slopes, and due to Colorado’s coquettish, unpredictable weather, I know I’m as likely to be able to picnic there in February as in July.

More than anything, I’ve come to know and love these ever-changing mountains. I’ve seen the “purple mountain majesties” Katharine Lee Bates immortalized when she penned “America the Beautiful” from Pikes Peak. I’ve seen it “raining fire in the sky” in the Western sunset John Denver sings about in “Rocky Mountain High.”

Recently a young buck with fuzzy antlers chose to laze away his afternoon in our back yard. On assignment at an office building on the north end of Colorado Springs, I gazed out the window as a baby fawn on wobbly legs cavorted behind her mother. As I write this, two hummingbirds are vying for position at the feeder at my office window.

Great show, Colorado! It’s taken twenty years, but I’m ready to profess my love for you. Now I officially have two home states. If home is where your heart is, then this feels a lot like home.

May I just add, this is how much I love you, Colorado—times two now that we’ve been together 40 years!

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.

Hummingbird Joy

July 25, 2012 by Nancy 15 Comments

After a summer marred by wildfires and the violent shooting incident in Colorado, it’s especially healing to have the hummingbirds return to bring us some unmitigated joy in the face of so much loss and grief. Few things in this earthly life can be considered pure joy. To the obvious list of kittens, puppies, and newborn babies, I always add hummingbirds—and I’m so glad they have returned.

By this time each summer we usually have six or eight at our feeder all the time and have to refill the nectar daily to keep them happy. But it’s worth it for the entertainment they bring!

One year I was on the phone when the first hummingbird of summer arrived. There I was, tilted back in the chair in my office at home having a long overdue chat with a friend, when I heard his frantic racket. I looked through the blinds to see him hovering at just the spot where I usually hang a feeder each year.

In the three seconds we made eye contact, the hummingbird seemed to clearly say to me, “Well, fine. I fly here all the way from Mexico, and you can’t even bother to get off the phone and put out the feeder!”

As much delight as they bring, and as much effort as they put into the trip, we really should greet these summer visitors with a bit more pomp and circumstance. Even if you aren’t much of a bird watcher, these birds will get your attention. They might suddenly appear just behind a paperback you’re reading out on the back deck only to dart off sideways as soon as you look up. Such antics are hard to ignore!

It’s also hard to ignore their gorgeous coloring. As with other birds, the males are the showiest. Interestingly, some of the most brilliant colors are not created by pigment in the feathers, but rather are iridescent reflections from the feathers themselves. One more sign of God’s amazing creativity.

There are 338 varieties of hummingbirds, 16 in the United States, and all of them are attracted to the color red. They prefer tubular red flowers and need to consume half their weight in sugar daily just to stay in the air!

If you succeed in attracting these interesting little hummers to your yard, remember they have incredible memories and high expectations. They will come back to the same feeders year after year, so once you become a destination point, be sure to keep the feeders up…and filled…well into the fall.

As difficult as this summer has been for those of us in Colorado, there’s still joy to be found. Given all that has happened, I’m keenly aware of the comforts of home, husband, and hummingbirds—and more determined than ever not to take any of them for granted.