On this day, dark gray clouds enhanced the colors of the world. Greens emerged more emerald. Blues turned a deeper violet. Yellows brightened in contrast, and pinks, reds and purples deepened their blush. This is for Mom and Jerry. LYMY.
Keep your love of nature, for that is the true way to understand art more and more. 
All that we are arises with our thoughts. With our thoughts, we make our world.
By definition, a blemish is an imperfection. A wrinkle is a fold, crease or ridge in the skin…typically a side effect of aging (and living!) or soaking your hands and/or feet in water too long. Cracks are for sidewalks, not faces. Freckles are appreciated and admired by some and a source of consternation to others (for those who have ever tried lemon juice and Porcelana cream, you know what I’m talking about). Rust can either diminish your car’s value or enhance your building’s patina. And who doesn’t think dimples aren’t the cutest things ever?
I believe that our “flaws” are what make the world beautiful; stretch marks and all.
From a distance, the middle of winter can seem unsightly. Brown, gray, wilted, withered and downright dead.
But get up close enough, and winter looks deceptively glamorous.
The vertical glamour shot:
The glamour head shot:
The cheesecake/beefcake shot:
The ubiquitous close-up shot:
And the perfect boudoir shot:
MUST BE 18 TO ENTER:
A recent Sunday drive south on Parker Road out of Denver ended at Castlewood Canyon State Park. This is a lovely state park with hiking trails, sightseeing, and picnic areas. Cherry Creek runs along the bottom of the canyon. Ruins of the Castlewood Canyon Dam that broke in 1933 flooding Denver and an abandoned homestead reveal bits and pieces of local history. This park should be on your list of places to visit this year.
I know I’ll be going back.
When most plant life outside is hibernating, it’s nice to have pretty tabletop nature inside. I managed to coax a funny looking bulb into this graceful bloom.
Title quote by R.H. Heinlein
Today we visited the Butterfly Pavilion for the first time. It’s pretty cool. Bugs, spiders and other creepy crawlies thrive in (safe and secure) glass boxes under warm lights. Colorful fish, crustaceans and other wiggly, swimming, little sea creatures pass the time in what appear to be giant fishbowls. Brave little kids let a scary, hairy tarantula named Rosie, crawl on their hands. (I get the shivers just thinking about it.) I put on my big-girl pants and touched a big horseshoe crab (only for a second and with permission).
My favorite part of our visit was the Wings of the Tropics exhibit: a lush, humid, tropical garden filled with exotic plants and flowers with graceful curves and seductive swoops that have names I can’t pronounce without great effort. The tropical colors are incredible…bright reds, pinks and fuschias, deep velvety greens, electric blues, brilliant yellows and warm golds. A gentle mist filters into the garden keeping both sturdy plant leaves and fragile flower petals blanketed in sparkling diamonds of water drops.
Most incredible though are the beautiful, fluttering butterflies that fill the air. Their colorful wings propel them silently about like hosts of swirling angels. Sometimes you can’t even see them; nevertheless, you know they’re there. If you’re lucky, one will alight on your sleeve. Like being kissed by an angel.
I love driving around in Colorado! This weekend was no exception. After lunch on Saturday in Castle Rock, it was on to Garden of the Gods, an amazing geological park just outside Colorado Springs. I would love to explain to you all the different rock formations and how they came to be, but I’m no geologist. In fact, some who know me might even say I don’t know schists from Shinola! But what I do know is how to point a camera at pretty rocks!
Garden of the Gods
Cathedral Spires
Garden of the Gods in black and white
Sunset buck
Today I happened upon an abandoned mine above Central City…the Coeur d’Alene mine. When I left Denver, the weather was sunny and mild. As I drove higher up into the mountains, the clouds started to flex their muscles and show off by spitting snowballs…little tiny ones. It got cold and windy, the sky turned a grayish white – not optimal photography conditions. But the mine was striking in its imposing, rusty splendor. I was drawn to quiet deserted corners. I apprehensively peered into doorways and tried to jump up to see in windows. I imagined the power of the now forgotten machinery as it may have once been: roaring and belching the smoke of productivity. I watched, waited, listened…for the stories. I heard them.
Tractor and shed
Wheat and bolts
Danger window
Rusty shingles
Rusty National
Rusty buckets
Rusty bolts
Nails in the wall
Big Bolt
Coeur d'Alene Mine
The weather in Denver last weekend was perfect for taking a lazy walk, dawdling lakeside, meandering around an old cemetery or enjoying a sightseeing, people-watching drive around the city. Sloan Lake Park was sprinkled with folks leisurely strolling, energetically walking, healthfully jogging, racing around on bicycles or dutifully pushing strollers. Kids were playing with bright colored balls and floating balloons on strings. Games were being played on asphalt courts. Bits and pieces of conversations, carried along on gentle autumn breezes, could briefly be overheard . Geese obliviously plucked at the still-green grass or enjoyed a dip in the azure blue water. Two fluffy squirrels perched high atop a building’s rooftop ledge kept a nervous eye on all below. The sun’s warm rays cast a burnished red on drying plants and tall cattails at the water’s edge.
The sloping hillsides of the historic Golden Hill Cemetery are scattered with aged headstones: some still standing tall, some leaning over with age, and still others toppled over. The landscape seems long ago consumed by nature’s overgrown grasses, weeds and leafless trees. The stillness of the afternoon air provoked a certain melancholy. Yet the quiet beauty of the late fall day was apparent – and appreciated.
As EYE See... 