There's Snow Much Difference

The past few winters almost killed me. This is strange for someone who used to name winter as her favorite season. I thought much of this was because of my living situation. Chicago winters are, let's say, brutal. That may be a little kind.
This morning in Drake, I awoke to snow covering the valley. My breath escaped me, and the first thing I thought to do was rekindle an old tradition of mine, one I hadn't done in the last few winters. I ran out into the yard, barefoot, with the dogs and wrestled with them in the fresh powdery snow. After a few minutes, we bolted back inside to the warmth of the stove and coffee that escaped my attention over the last few days. As my feet and toes regained feeling, I thought about how much I missed winter, this kind of winter, not the dingy horrible mess Chicago calls a winter.
I believe one of the main reasons Chicago's winters are so terrible is that the majority of people don't find ways to enjoy it. This attitude passes along like a bad flu virus. It infects everyone around until by the end of winter, Chicagoans are ready to kill. Couple that with the traffic messes, the long waits for CTA, and the lack of space for snow, and it's no wonder most people in Chicago hate winter.
Now, I haven't been here long, but it seems to me folks here in Colorado are anxious for winter's coming. I hear people excited about skiing and snowboarding, snow-shoeing and sledding. I smile as I drive by people working on their snow machines. I imagine the blustery thoughts running through their heads.
All these images remind me that winter is fun, and indeed my favorite season of all. I'm glad to be home.

We Got Wood!

Fall has arrived with winter right around the corner! Finding wood around the Fort Collins area is difficult this time of year it seems. I found lots of free wood in Craigslist, but it was usually snapped up by the time I arrived. Last Friday, I found a post in CL touting all the wood you can handle... The only problem is that it resides in Grand Lake, an eight hour round trip if you don't drive through Rocky Mountain National Park, or an hour and a half drive if you do. Slap onto that a $20 fee to pass through the park and I was a little perturbed.
I decided driving through the park would be better, and since it was a beautiful day, that's what I did. RMNP is beautiful, but that is not what I'm writing about, so I'll spare the details.
I arrived at Alberta's 80 acre farm, located between Granby and Grand Lake. Grand County, where Alberta's farm is found, has a major bark beetle infestation problem (notice the dead trees behind the cows in the photo). This infestation resulted in the need to thin out much of the pine trees on Alberta's farm.
When I arrived, I was directed to a pasture that had at least 15 piles of slashed wood and branches. I was told to take whatever I wanted and come back for more if I wanted to. I pulled my Explorer into the pasture and found myself surrounded by cows. I was told they wouldn't bother me... could have fooled me.
The cows deemed themselves protectors of the wood piles. Every pile I drove to, the cows followed me. Now, they may just have been interested in my activities, but it's a little unnerving looking up from a pile of wood to find a 900 lb. beast staring at you. Pretty soon, 11 or 12 cows, of varying sizes and colors, surrounded me. I threw what wood I had in my arm into the truck and jumped in the driver seat. I thought to myself "This would be a fitting end to a former butcher, trampled by cows." I could see the headlines already.
I scavenged on, drove to the opposite side of the pasture to another pile, and managed to gather a full truck load before the cows sauntered over to my new position. Imagine that hey? An Illinois girl a tish bit afraid of cows???

Red Rocks

So I'm quite possibly the last of my buddies to visit the famed Red Rocks Amphitheatre, but at least I waited for one of the best shows ever. I saw Yonder Mountain String Band for the first time in Anchorage during a May show at the Bear Tooth Theater in 2002. There were maybe 500 people present. I thought it was the best Yonder show I would ever and had ever seen, until last weekend.

Rumor has it there were at least 9,000 folks noodling it up last Friday at Red Rocks. The evening was special in more than one way. For me, it was my first Red Rocks show, with my favorite band tearing it down. But it was also special for the band. YMSB released their album "The Show" on September 1st, but the band treated every fan at the Red Rocks show to a free copy of the new album.

As you can see, if you're a fan that is, the show was fire. I cried a little and rocked a lot, and I even got a lot of exercise running up and down the steep venue. Mostly, I reflected on the last decade that this band has existed and all that has changed. Ben Kaufmann, Yonder's bass player, summed it up best when he looked out into the crowd and said "Not bad for a band from Nederland." Life is good... and it's getting better.

Set list:
East Nashville Easter
40 Miles from Denver
Spanish Harlem Incident
This Train is Bound for Glory
Irondale
New Speedway Boogie
Honestly
Steep Grade Sharp Curves->
Midwest Gospel Radio->
Snow on the Pines->
Winds on Fire->
Snow on the Pines

Illinois Rain
Rain Still Falls
Complicated
Finally Saw the Light->
Kentucky Mandolin->
Too Late Now
Dreams
Pockets
On the Run->
Ten->
Girlfriend is Better->
Ten->
On the Run
(E)Holdin'
(E)Raleigh & Spencer

Feathered Friends

My new house in Drake holds many fascinations for me. One of the first things I noticed was the sounds, or lack there of. Compared to Chicago, Drake is rather quiet, or at least it seems so. In actuality, sounds emanate from everywhere, they are just a different kind.
Instead of sirens and screeching train wheels, I hear birds, everywhere. When I arrived, my ears picked up what I thought was a cricket. This seemed strange to me since it was daytime. I thought crickets were night sounds.
I soon realized what I heard was a hummingbird. I've been here almost two weeks now, and James Kristino (I named the hummingbird that) has not stopped his constant chirping... a relief to my ears after the big sounds of the city.
Yesterday I spent the whole day on the porch, camera ready, trying to capture an image of my new friend James. I came close, at least he's in the frame. Hopefully I can do better in the future.
Other feathered friends include noisy magpies, crows, ravens, and a whole flock of bluebirds that frequent our yards in the evenings.

Rattlesnake: Tanning

I've been in Colorado less than two weeks and I'm already tanning dead animals on my front porch. Life is good. I am new at this. Truth be told, I'm a complete rookie, but nobody else stepped up to the plate, and wasting this opportunity isn't an option in my book.
This is the same rattler that we ate the other day. The job of tanning the skin fell on me, since I don't have a job or school to contend with. I'm thankful for the work and the learning experience.
After doing a little Google research, I determined that an equal part mixture of glycerin and rubbing alcohol should do the trick. Most of the instructions I found called for the skin to be split along the belly, but Seth was sure this wasn't necessary.
After mixing the glycerin and alcohol, and tying a hankie around my nose, I poured some of the mixture into the inner part of the skin. I let this spread throughout the length of the skin and gently rubbed it up and down the cavity. I hope this coats the inside of the skin enough for curing.
Next I tacked the skin, backside down, to a long board, making sure the tacks were spaced no more than one inch apart. My instructions said not to stretch the skin as this will cause it to rip when it dries.
After tacking the skin to the board along both sides, I used a small paint brush to apply the tanning mixture to the underside of the skin. I applied this liberally as it seemed to keep flies at bay.
I let this sit overnight on my front porch. I worried about animals possibly tampering with it, so I left my front door open, with the screen shut, thinking the dogs would alert me to any unwanted scavengers.
This morning I awoke and all was well. The skin dried a little, but nothing seemed to have fed on it. I untacked the skin, flipped it so the belly side lay on the board, reapplied my tacks and added another liberal coat of the glycerin/alcohol mixture.
I need to let this dry until this evening when I will untack it and lay it flat between two boards, coated in paper towels. Updates will follow.

Debauchery Canyon

Wednesdays are Taco Night at the Canyon Grill near Horsetooth Resevoir in Fort Collins... at least if you're a hippie. Officially, Wednesdays are Bike Night, but most hippies don't have motorcycles. With plenty of 50 cent tacos to go around, you can see where the alternative name comes from.
Two nights ago was my first Taco Night. I had four tacos, my friend Jen had ten, that's where the debauchery began. The Canyon Grill also has $1.50 PBR on draft, and we all know how I love my PBR.
Ten beers and about one thousand wise cracks later, hunger settled back in, the tacos were wearing off. Roger, co-owner of the Canyon Grill, amused myself and the rest of the bar by throwing ice down my open shirt, only to find the same piece of ice mysteriously flew from my hand back into his drink. But still, the hunger persisted.
Solution: Rattlesnake...
I heard about the rattlesnake before I arrived in Colorado. Apparently, nestled up under a hot tub at a bed-n-breakfast is not a great abode for poisonous snakes. While walking by the hot tub one night, Jen was almost bitten. The snake was quickly dispatched and ended up in Seth's freezer, awaiting my arrival.
As the Canyon Grill wrapped up my first Taco Night, Jen, Seth, Mike and I headed up to Seth's apartment above the bar for a lesson in properly preparing rattlesnake for dinner.
I'll spare you the details. If you really want them, let me know.
The snake was pretty good, even though Seth may have over-cooked it a little. For a 2 am dinner/breakfast, whichever you prefer, I had no complaints.
The skin is currently stretching on a piece of wood, awaiting its inevitable fate as Jen's banjo strap.