Month: November 2020

This holiday rolls around every year, and we all contemplate what it is we want to say we’re thankful for.  Of course, we’re thankful for our family, good health, good friends.  So, this year, I’ll be thankful for my daughters and son-in-law and my granddaughters who are all healthy and safe.  I’ll be thankful for the roof over my head, the food on my table, and my dear friends.  I’ll be thankful for my health, my physicians, and the personnel who provide medical care for me.

This year, we can also be thankful if the horrors of the pandemic have not visited us, while praying for the well-being of those who have known the ravages of the virus, whether known to us or not.  My state’s governor has issued appropriate warnings about congregating and putting ourselves at risk for the pandemic.  Continued use of face coverings.  Physical distancing in public.  Hand washing.

I’ve decided that with this article, I will include several, maybe three, of my photographs.  Nothing is recent.  But, I’ve kept some photographs of images from past years.

Ted Kooser, my favorite poet in the whole world, published a new book of poetry (Red Stilts) in September 2020.  Of course, I ordered several – one for myself and some for relatives and friends.  Signed by the poet.  Everybody should have a copy of Ted’s work.

For many years now, maybe, ten or twelve, I’ve been writing poetry.  I remember starting to write while at Ghost Ranch one summer.  I found that I really enjoyed selecting a subject and writing about the topic.  Children at the Ranch, the red and yellow and orange cliffs, the old sway-back horse who stepped on my foot, so many topics, right there at the Ranch.  I kept writing and writing.  I write regularly for the Tips and Chips, the monthly newsletter for the Denver Gem and Mineral Guild.  Nothing published by a book publisher, yet; but there is always hope.

On Tuesday, September 8, we had our first snowfall for the 2020 season.  Of course, it had been snowing in the high country for some time.  I seem to remember a long time ago when the first snow of the year was on Labor Day; and, as I remember, it was after Larry and I had finished our college work and moved to the metro area.  I don’t remember the exact date, but I do know that it was a tree-trimming storm.

With leaves still on the trees, the snow became too heavy to be tolerated by tree branches.  Fallen limbs littered streets, sidewalks, and yards.  Whole trees fell on houses, across sidewalks, and on parked cars.  Navigating an automobile through the maze was less that pleasant; even, dangerous.  The clean up took some time and chainsaws and trucks and people power.

Please forgive me for the length of this post.  A journalist friend in Nebraska has cautioned me that blogs should be about five hundred words long.  Well, this one has to be longer because the people I’m talking about would be short changed if I tried to tell their stories in five hundred words.  So, once again, please bear with me.

The other day when I had almost nothing to do, during this pandemic, I took stock of the people I know.  Wonderful women and men.  I thought about the men I know – and how many of them have the same first name.  Not all of them, of course.  But, many.  If I consider them in alphabetical order – I like alphabetical order (my spices are in alphabetical order) – this is what I find.

Bill lives across the street on the corner.  He has the sweetest dog Chloe.  She is tiny and spunky.  He always offers to help.  I know that he helps a friend – another widow (I really don’t like that word) who lives across my side fence.

Bob, husband of my daughter and father of my two grand children.  Clearly, he loves his family and wants the best for them.