Pantries need filling

My blog-buddy over at JAPRA* is publicizing this laudable effort, a play on tomorrow's holiday status: not April Fools, but April Food Day. And I'm happy to participate. The cause is inspired by a shortfall at a lot of food banks and other similar organizations, as they're hit with the perfect storm of more needy patrons and fewer donations, given the sad state of the nation's finances.

Get in the swing of April Food Day and make a donation to your local food bank. Ours is here. Or here is the national organization Feeding America, which used to be called Second Harvest.

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*to see what the acronym stands for, click on the link and get acquainted with one of the best little corners of the blogosphere.

No lambs yet sighted

Fortunately here in South Texas we don't ever put either shorts or coats into too deep storage. You never know when you'll need one or the other. For every few Christmases celebrated in shorts and tank tops, there are a few late spring mornings like today, when I had to pull my London-bought coat out of the closet. Never thought I'd be wearing it again before next November! (the scarf is also a London purchase—a bargain for a £ on the street in East London!)

We got down to the 40's last night and are forecast to reach 34 tonight! Not that I'm complaining. The longer we can put off the nights when it doesn't get much below 90, the better. Although our neighbors in Amarillo might disagree.

But what's that I remember about March going out like a lamb?!

State flower (almost) MIA

Our incredibly dry fall and winter has resulted in a less-than-stellar wildflower display around town and along highways near here. In particular, bluebonnets are short supply. It was even written up in the local paper: see this article.

There are some of the lovely lupines around, though. I found this patch in a flowerbed on campus, near the big fountain in front of the main admin building:

But there are apparently no large swaths of blue in fields as you head out of town, as there usually are this time of year. Fortunately, their seeds can lie dormant for years so if we have some decent moisture before next spring, hopefully they'll reappear.

In the meantime, there are some other wild blooms that don't seem to be quite as reluctant to show themselves, like these primroses (perhaps inaccurately called buttercups around here). I've seen several patches of these in yards and vacant lots around town.

And if you're enough into spring blooms that you can travel to see them, check out Hal's article about some neat places to visit. (His bluebonnet area is east of here, in the considerably more moist area around Houston—better for lots of types of flowers.)

Follow the river: Leadville to the sea

The lovely little stream that made such restful music outside our cabin last week is actually part of a very impressive watershed system. The picture at the left shows it from our cabin's deck, as the south fork of the South Arkansas River. Hey, we're not in Arkansas! But you'll see the reason for the name in a minute.

It rushes on down the valley until the north fork joins it, near the little town of Maysville, making it just the South Arkansas River, until it joins the main stream in the neat little town of Salida.

Even without our fork's contribution, the Arkansas upstream from Salida is a well-known river to whitewater enthusiasts, its most famous stretch being Browns Canyon. We went on a raft trip there several years ago and it was lots of fun and very exciting.

On our trip home this time we followed the river for a while on our way to the Colorado Springs airport. It hugs highway 50 for 40 miles or so east of Salida, and we were pleased to see that there are all kinds of amenities for boaters along this stretch. Since the last time we drove this route, the Arkansas Headwaters Recreation Area has established several put-in/take-out/picnic/camping areas along the road. Henry's already working on how to organize a paddling trip up here when the weather's a little warmer. Here's a picture we took at one of the way stations, Pinnacle Rock:
Up until this point, the rapids we saw looked like fun, but nothing terribly dangerous. However, from here on to Royal Gorge (just a few miles downstream, but highway 50 doesn't cross the gorge), the map posted here noted some killer class V rapids—making this a good-looking end point, imho, for any future paddling expeditions we might undertake.

The rest of our drive to the Springs wasn't as much fun, as we soon took a shortcut that left the Arkansas behind. The scenery was still nice, though, as you can tell from this shot, actually taken from the plane as we were taxi-ing to take-off—that's Pikes Peak behind the control tower.

But, back to that river, and why it's called the Arkansas. It's not named for where it starts, which is in Colorado near Leadville (which happens to be the highest incorporated town in the US, at over 10,000'). Fed by our little fork, it surges on through Colorado, making the Royal Gorge canyon, and lots of other good scenery, until it reaches the plains at Pueblo.

It then crosses Kansas, dips down into Oklahoma, and then through Arkansas, finally joining the Mississippi a ways downstream from Memphis, Tennessee. For some reason, its name comes from where it joins Old Man River, rather than where it starts (although the Colorado River name is already taken). In addition to making music for us, and providing fun rafting, along its way it no doubt contributes to the quality of life in such cities as Wichita, Kansas, Tulsa, Oklahoma, and Little Rock, Arkansas (where the cute baby pictured a couple of posts ago happens to live).

So, if you spit off the bridge into the creek in Garfield, your saliva will eventually, theoretically, sail all the way to the Big Easy and out into the Gulf of Mexico. Pretty cool, eh?

Now THIS is Colorado!

This is the greeting you see when you enter Chaffee County, Colorado, our Rockies vacation destination for more than 30 years. And, judging by the view of the Collegiate Peaks you see here, I think it's quite apt. The photo was taken on highway 24, not far from Buena Vista (pronounced, or rather mangled, into "bee-oo-nee" by the locals—but a "beautiful view" it remains!)

If you want to see the sign clearly, and know I'm not just making up the slogan, click the image. I left it larger than I usually do, so that the writing should be readable.

The Collegiates (cleverly named Harvard, Princeton, etc.) are just some of the 14-er's (14,000' + elevation) in the county, which has more of these beautiful behemoths than any other Colorado county (I counted 12 on our highway map). Henry and Sally have climbed one of the 12, Mt. Shavano, but the best I've done is Mt. Taylor, at close to 13,600'. It's on the center right in the picture below, taken from the ski area, next to the distinctively-shaped Mt. Aetna (13,746') with the squared-off top and the big talus slide.

I've also climbed Mt. Clover, at the right here, seeming to be at the end of the street in "downtown" Garfield, where we stay. It's just a hair under 13,000'. That's high enough for me. Isn't it pretty, though, with its winter coat? It was summer, of course, when we did our climbing.

Another Garfield landmark is the Chalet, a former schoolhouse, shown here on the left. It was rented out this time during our stay so we were in a little cabin next door. If you're planning a central Colorado vacation, these properties owned by my in-laws are great places to use as bases of operations!

Monarch Mountain ski area, only 3 miles up the road and on the near side of Monarch Pass (at 11,312' , in the winter this is an important consideration), is a small area but reasonably priced with great snow. (If you want a bigger place, and the road over the pass is ok, Crested Butte is 2 hours away.)

Here's a shot of the Monarch area from its lodge:

We love coming up here in the summer, too, and hope to do so later this year. There's not only the aforementioned mountain-climbing opportunities, but some fun boating possibilities, too. I'll tell you about the river running through this area in my next post.

For now, though, if you need another lovely image to explain why I'm so fond of this part of the world, here's one I stole from Henry. He was up early one morning and caught the sunrise on the ridge behind our cabin just before the half moon set behind it...

Home from the mountains

I think I just have enough energy after traveling all day to make a brief report. We had a great time skiing and visiting. I discovered the best way to ski with 60-year-old joints: ski a day, rest a day. And just enjoying being in the Rockies, in the little valley that's one of my favorite places in the world. The photo below is essentially the view from my bedroom window, accompanied by the soothing sound of the stream (which doesn't ever seem to completely freeze over; I'll be telling you more about this little creek later).

Can you understand why I like it so much?

Here's another view, down the valley this time, with the late afternoon sun highlighting this handsome ridge:


An extra added bonus was getting to visit with a bunch of brothers- and sisters-in-law, nieces, and nephews on the slopes, on the lifts and après-ski. I even got to babysit with this adorable little fellow, my youngest great-nephew, who (apologies to my own wonderful children) is the sweetest-tempered baby I've ever been around:

He didn't even seem to mind that his great-aunt Kathy's hair was in full Colorado-straight ugly mode (the dryness takes every bit of curl away).

I'll try to find time in the next few days to post more photos and tell you more about our skiing and this lovely area in central Colorado.

Spring:::Interrupted

I had the idea for this title a few days ago, and then it was only to apply to myself and husband. We're leaving sunny south Texas tomorrow for a long weekend of skiing and visiting with a passle of nieces and nephews from all over the country, gathering in tiny Garfield, Colorado. So we definitely will be heading back into winter, with forecast highs for the ski area hovering in the 20's.

Overnight, though, everyone in town here had their spring interrupted with the arrival of a vigorous cold front that even brought some much-needed rain in addition to blustery winds. That I hope don't bruise the lovely, lacy mesquites that are just starting to leaf out—my favorite spring-time arrival. (I snapped this photo on my way home from work today.)

So I probably won't be blogging for a week or so, although internet access does seem to be getting more and more widespread as I travel and I might have a chance to post a snowy picture or two before I get back.

In the meantime, I hope you all are enjoying whatever sort of spring you happen to be having!

Excitement on the river

NOTE: Henry now has many more photos from this paddle on his blog.

Not much excitement was involved when I was taking this picture, as I waited for the shuttling car to come back to our put-in point right below the I-10 bridge over the Guadalupe River in Comfort. Quite the contrary, it was soothing and relaxing at this lovely spot in the river, in spite of the highway noise overhead.

I especially liked the massive cypress tree across the river from me, with its intricate roots reaching into the water. These trees always make me think of both Old Man Willow and the mallorns, at the same time, although I know that pairing perverts Tolkien's moral universe. There were trees like this all along our route on Saturday, making me regret my decision to be lazy and not take my camera. But Henry had his and I did have custody of it occasionally, like during the wait for the shuttle, and, later, when he found an unusual use for one of the less fortunate of the big trees, as you can see at the left.

But the excitement of my title was—fortunately for my dignity—not captured on film. I experienced my first fall out of a kayak. In shallow but swift-moving water, courtesy of some inconveniently-placed boulders and my lack of steering skill. The water was cool, but not cold, another plus, and I didn't have too long to skim along the bottom on my butt before I could manage to stand up. All in all, though, if we take this particular trip again, I'll opt to walk the boat through that particular rapid like some of our group did.

If we don't get some rain soon, though, there may not be much kayaking in our future.

Colors

It's a busy week, with not much time for intensive blogging. (Plus I'm working on an exciting—for me, anyway—way of starting to organize my London photos. More about that on my London blog soon.)

Anyway, I do have some photos of colorful scenes around town that I've been collecting and will take this opportunity to show a few of them. Like the papeles picados (a simple but lovely and popular decoration you see all over town) at the right, seen in the patio of El Milagrito (where my surprise birthday party was held, although the photo was taken on another visit). And a more monumental dash of color in my supermarket's doorway.

Here's a colorful establishment I pass on my way to work every day, where they sell really yummy tamales in all kinds of flavors (I called them once because I wanted to pick some up for a small get-together and thought I might have to order in advance—but with an order as small as 5 or 6 dozen, no reservations required). Having grown up on "normal" beef tamales, trying varieties like guacamole, bean, chicken, etc., is a real treat.

Another typically colorful west-side eatery is this one:
Hmmm. I wonder why all these photos have to do with food? Maybe because it's dinner time?!