Fallish favorites

Fall is just a brilliant season--seriously, a genius move on the part of whoever thought up this little universe of ours.
The leaves, the spices and flavors, the slight change in the weather, it's all a perfect lead-up to my most favorite season, that being winter.

Now a few seasonal loves...

Cute husband calls the combination of Old Chubb and Scotch the perfect concoction for autumnal liquid courage.  Sad but true.

 

Now, on to liquid strength...

I have been searching for a tasty creme brulee whole bean coffee since my mom told me such a thing existed, and, well, as I should have known from the very start of my search nearly 3 years ago, Harry & David delivered.  Snowflake coffee mugs from IKEA also help the flavor for a winter-wisher like me.

And, well, how do I put this...ah yes, the greatness and glory of fall has now been bottled.  Get yours today, morning will be less painful.

Happy Halloween indeed.  For me the commercials are true, the absolute scariest part is having to give away all of my Reese's.

Certain scenes from an uncertain life

One more rainbow...

(Photo by cute husband, since he had shoes on, and I tend to run around shoeless.)

I could actually make out the entire color spectrum (Roy G. Biv) on this one.  Breathtaking!

Think we might need to change the name of the blog to Rainbow Blog. 

And a sunset to beat the band:

These little gifts keep my motor running during uncertain times.

Weekend photographs

A few things I've seen lately.

Mountain storm rolling in...

The clouds just start to eat the light.

But it always clears away to reveal a familiar view, even more beautiful than before.

I call this one, "Take a peak."

Think like a moth

Perhaps he doesn't understand the concept of a window.  Or perhaps he just keeps on believing, against all odds, that he can make it through to what he just knows awaits on the other side.

Maybe there's no difference between the two.
I've got to respect any living thing that's always choosing the light.

The Fourth (the fifth, the minor fall, the major lift)

Only a country I truly love could be capable of making me so completely crazy sometimes.
So I saluted with the rest of em...

But mostly it was just an excuse to sit out here and giggle with people I love most in the world.

Oh and we cooked from the Bible:

 And kept the levity in life:

 I hear it's 100+ degrees in good old Williamsburg, Virginia.  The NOAA web page has a picture of a cactus next to Williamsburg.  Too bad I'm in Colorado, wearing a jacket.

*Blog title lyrics by Leonard Cohen, as if you didn't know

Twas September of 2001 and the second night of college--whoever it was pulled the dormitory fire alarm that night, I've got a lot to thank you for.

Out on the median in the middle of the street I met a boy named Corey--cute, funny, sweet.  I'd forgotten to grab my college ID on the way out, so he promised to vouch for me when we went back inside.

A five-minute conversation, a flash of the baby blues, and I was hooked for life.

Nearly 9 years later we're married.  The minute he leaves, no matter where he's going or for how long, I start thinking about when I'll see him again.

Last night was our 2nd wedding anniversary, so I came down to Denver and we painted the town red.

What's better than palling around with your best friend?  Especially if that best friend happens to be good-looking.

The morning

The morning has so many secrets I would otherwise not know about, if not for a sleepless night.

So thank you worries, thank you concerns...

...in truth you never got the best of me.

And I'm reading this book:

I demand you go out and buy a copy today.  It may be making it into my Top 5 Ever.

The Weekly Reader

It's quiet here on the mountaintop.  Yesterday--the first day of summer--was marked by an elk herd sighting, and, get this, a baby deer sighting as well! (I was furious with myself for not having my camera with me.) I had never seen a baby deer before.  I had no idea they were so small.  For some reason when I thought of a baby deer I was picturing the baby cow that's born out on the trail in the movie City Slickers.  But no, they are adorably little, and speckled, and this one was hopping like a bunny just following his (or her) mom down a big hill with his (or her) little head darting all around looking at the great big world.  For a moment I wanted to be a deer, so I could have deer babies...

 

 (wunderground.com)

In other news, I wanted to share the book I'm reading with all of you--I know I did this just a few days ago, but when the really good ones come along, I think I've got a duty to share.  I mentioned in that post that I was intrigued by Julie Orringer's new book, The Invisible Bridge.  Well, before I started that one, I thought it would be good to read her first book, a short story collection called How to Breathe Underwater.  I picked it up from the library last night around 7:30pm and at 12:30pm today I've got about 60 pages left to go.  Yes, it was one of those that I sort of, um, stayed up all night reading.  Most of the stories have to do with girls coming of age, and as someone who tends to read a lot of women's literature, I'd be hard pressed to think of anything I've read that achieves such a pitch-perfect portrayal of what it is to be a girl, in terms of our relationships with men, each other, our families, and ourselves.  It's just beautiful, and makes me so excited to pick up The Invisible Bridge.  Before I started How to Breathe Underwater, I had been reading Major Pettigrew's Last Stand, a book about which I've read and heard many excellent reviews.  But I just couldn't get into it--it's just so British, like the petroleum.  Other than the Immortal Bard, Brit Lit has just never been my thing.  Think I'll wait until it's out in paperback so I can slog through it on my own time and not have to beg the library for one more week.

I titled this post "The Weekly Reader" thinking it was a clever title for a weekly reading update, but then it reminded me of an old elementary school memory.  Remember Weekly Readers?

(wow, found a very retro one)

And that reminded me of another elementary school memory.  Scholastic book orders!  Do they still do those?

 (Yep, looks like they do.  Sadly the one pictured above is offering "American Idol" books.  What?)

On book order day I would literally go mad.  The teacher would bring in the box after lunch--the white one, with the Scholastic red.  She'd say, "If we have time, we'll hand these out at the end of the day."  I'd spend the rest of the afternoon eyeing that box behind her desk, and if I felt like she was forgetting, I'd go up to her desk and remind her.  Having to wait until tomorrow was simply not an option.

Many are happy it's summer.  I am too--seems like summertime always produces a few happy, carefree times.  But I'd be lying if I said I wasn't happy that we are now on the down slope--the days will all be getting shorter, fall is the next immediate season.  But I shall attempt to live in the moment.

Celtic Pride

This day started out wonderfully.

We're talking tea, with a really funny name...

Yes, I NEED my morning thunder.

And it was supped against an inexplicably beautiful backdrop...

And accompanied by a good book, and a good fruit...

Then in the evening I met cute husband at a pizza joint--we hadn't seen each other in three days.  It was a joyful reunion.  The reason we went to the pizza joint was to watch the beginning of the Boston Celtics-LA Lakers basketball game.  It was game 7.  High stakes.

We left after the first quarter and headed for home--the Celtics were up, we had great hope, though of course we lived in fear, as any true fan will.

Interlude:
Nearly six years ago, in the winter of 2004, a college girl sat in her heat-less, mouse-infested apartment in Boston, Mass. sipping her morning coffee.  The anchor of the early morning local news came on the television and reported that the Boston Celtics had lost yet another game.  With a dismissive grin and a shake of his head he said, "Ah, folks.  The Celtics aren't just bad, they're completely irrelevant."

Meanwhile, the college girl's boyfriend--a die hard NBA basketball fan--often spoke to her about his favorite basketball player, a man--an intense, passionate man--by the name of Kevin Garnett.  They called him KG for short.  He played--toiled, really--for an abysmal team called the Minnesota Timberwolves.  The college girl's boyfriend worried that he would be stuck in cold and unforgiving Minnesota forever, never living up to his potential, the world never knowing how great he could be.

A couple of years passed, the college girl and her boyfriend left Boston for good.

Then, like a miracle, in 2007, that player--KG--got traded.  To the irrelevant Boston Celtics.  And in June of 2008, KG and the Celtics won the Championship.  They beat the LA Lakers.  And oh the victory was sweet.

The no-longer college girl and her boyfriend celebrated by getting married that very month, and nearly two years into their marriage, there was a rematch.  Lakers v. Celts in the Finals.

They watched each game with their hearts in their throats. 

And on the evening of June 17th, 2010 as the clock neared 10pm mountain time, their hearts were broken.  The Celtics lost.

Doc Rivers--the majestic coach, Rajon Rondo--the boy wonder, Paul Pierce--the warrior, Ray Allen--the shooter, Big Baby (Glen Davis)--the gentle giant, and Kevin Garnett--the unbreakable heart of the team.  They lost.

And though our hearts are broken, to loosely quote Denzel Washington in Remember the Titans, "They're Hall of Fame in our book."

I love you guys.

Wise old mountain moon...

...shining through the tree branches. 

Moments of perfection dot the hours of everything else.

Hope everyone is enjoying the long weekend.

On the road again

All things must end...

...the evening clouds disappear into the veil of night...

...the most perfect dinner is consumed...

...your favorite tile gets old and must be ripped out...violently...

...and the gardens in such brilliant bloom this season, will go quiet in the season to come...

...and I have to leave Kansas City, where I think, no matter how many other cool places I go to and live in on Earth, my heart will always be.

But I'm one of the lucky people who has good stuff waiting for me at both the arrival and departure gates of airports, and so tomorrow I get to see cute husband for the first time in 3 weeks!!!!!!

Often all that's left of a time is a darkening sky, and a happy memory or two.

And the sad but beautiful part is, you've got to just make due with that.

Wasteland

Driving back from my shooting on Monday, where I mostly took photos of the springtime color and the flowing water in Brush Creek, I noticed that at the other end of the creek things were less pristine.  The trees were old and spindly instead of colorful and the water seemed to flow more slowly, and with less sun glinting off its surface.  I'm new to photography, but one of the things that I enjoy most about it is the way you can find beauty even in the ugly stuff--a landscape can be striking on camera whether it's lit by sun and marked by plenty or defined by its darkness and shadow.  To me, this is perhaps the greatest similarity between the two disparate arts of writing and photography--there is always the work of trying to make beauty, no matter what you attempt to convey.  My father--a photography-lover himself--told me that there is what you see and what your camera sees, and the art lies in making the camera see what you see.  The sentiment helps me when I'm trying to capture scenes I find beautiful--I ask myself, what is it that's striking me?  I think it's also a powerful question to ask myself when I sit down to write.  That is to say, how do I make my readers see what I want them to--what I believe they must see?


And, so, do I even need to say it?  April is the cruelest month...

...breeding lilacs out of the dead land, mixing

Memory and desire, stirring

Dull roots with spring rain.

--T.S. Eliot