Yesterday on our early morning walk, Sol Duc rushed up a driveway, all fierce hunter, and attacked the pile beside a garage. Not our garage. I wondered if it was a mouse? Nope. She lost interest once she’d flushed the prey. The tailless prey was quite relieved.
I met my daughter at Betty Ford’s on Saturday. No, not the rehab, Betty Ford’s Alpine Gardens in Vail. Vail is about half way between us. We found lunch at the Farmer’s Market, walked the gardens, and shared a banana split. My daughter was laughing by the end of it. “None of my friends are still eating at the end of a banana split, mom. You and my brother are the only ones who can keep up!” We walked over six miles and yum, how often do I have a banana split?
The gardens are not huge, but the alpine flowers are beautiful and from all over the world.
We heard music too, since the gardens are right next to the amphitheater. Robert Plant and Alison Kraus were warming up and doing their sound checks. My daughter was underwhelmed.
This looks beautiful and peaceful, but the Farmer’s Market is big and was packed with people. We were pretty much out of the range of Robert Plant at this point, but he accompanied us much of the way.
I heard it on the radio! Well, no, I found it on Youtube.
This morning is quiet, quiet and Sol Duc and I took a late walk for us. We could hear bugs and a train, across the valley. We went over to the fence where the farm starts. Barbed wire and an electrified fence, so we did not trespass. Sol Duc is wearing red, but get her in the weeds and she’s darn difficult to see.
The Ballad of the Shape of Things is one of those songs that I learned very young and from my cousins, so I did not know who recorded it. Another “dead girl song” only this one is a “dead guy song”. I loved the puns: “They say he died of the chickenpox. In part I must agree, one chick too many had he.” I also liked songs with words I didn’t know: transom, in this one. We were fairly bloodthirsty kids and happily learned songs about death, unfaithful lovers, murder, betrayal, noble suicide to save the highwayman, and so forth. My Darling Clementine, another dead girl song. We had a very educational childhood in song.
We needed the triangular “garment thin that fastens on with a safety pin” explained at the end of the song, because the cloth diapers we’d experienced were rectangular. I find memorizing things that rhyme and especially if there is a story and a tune, much easier than memorizing the varied side effects of drugs such as ACE inhibitors. The story behind the side effects escapes me, though maybe there is one! Think of that, a ballad of the ACE inhibitors, with each one having its individual good and bad effects! I am certain that I could make up a story, even if we don’t really understand all the effects.
“The cover of a book is only skin deep.” -Malcolm Kenyon Ottaway
My father came up with that one. It sounds like it makes sense until you think about it a bit. He and my mother did tons of wordplay and they would conflate adages. That’s “Don’t judge a book by its’ cover.” and “Beauty is only skin deep.” (I don’t agree with the second. The complex interiors of people have their own beauty. We just don’t have pageants for small intestines and hearts and brains.)
Don’t burn all your bridges, look before you leap and we’ll cross that bridge when we come to it. We morphed those into Don’t burn your bridges before you cross them. Another I’ve heard is this:
The older we get, the more we learn
which bridges to cross, which to burn
Honestly, I am terrible at burning bridges. I think it comes from being passed around as an infant and feeling abandoned or a sense of loss and grief. I am practically incapable of really burning a bridge. At most I can put up a guardhouse with a tollbooth. Not that anyone ever tries, really. People mystify me and apparently that is not going away ever.
I love this old adage, too:
Make new friends, but keep the old
One is silver and the other gold
The walls of rock at Arches National Park are so amazing. And are they arches or are they holes in the wall? And a hole in the wall doesn’t imply the majesty of arches or how amazing the remaining section of rock above us. Magical, amazing, unbelievable, astounding.
This weekend I traveled east and a friend that I’ve known since I was in high school and she was taking a year off from college, met in Glenwood Springs. We soaked in the amazing hot springs there and then stayed in Carbondale. We managed two more hot springs the next day. Saturday evening we went to Steve’s Guitars and heard Quinlan Valdez. He is touring from Wyoming and we intersected with his tour and enjoyed it very much.
I was folding up a small quilt that I use to block the door open and found this small visitor. It made me jump back at first because I felt something cool and a bit soft that then moved and was not flaccid at all! A small toad visitor. I thanked her for coming by and put her back out in the grass for the day.
Discover and re-discover Mexicoβs cuisine, culture and history through the recipes, backyard stories and other interesting findings of an expatriate in Canada
Engaging in some lyrical athletics whilst painting pictures with words and pounding the pavement. I run; blog; write poetry; chase after my kids & drink coffee.
Refugees welcome - FlΓΌchtlinge willkommen I am teaching German to refugees. Ich unterrichte geflΓΌchtete Menschen in der deutschen Sprache. I am writing this blog in English and German because my friends speak English and German. Ich schreibe auf Deutsch und Englisch, weil meine Freunde Deutsch und Englisch sprechen.
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