For All My Family & Friends

Friday 16 October 2009, 1:30 p.m.
This is where I have spent my ENTIRE morning and now into the afternoon.

1 cup of tea
1 percolator pot of coffee
1 pint heavy whipping cream
1 partially eaten PB&J
5 plays of "Poetics of Sound Miles Davis 1954-59"
20 uploaded pictures (not counting the ones I decided I didn't want)
1000's of keystrokes
Countless pee breaks & a sore butt


I have accomplished a complete updating to my blog. (Actually, there is one post still in the draft section because I am waiting on a friend to send me a picture I need. Hint! Hint! You know who you are.) I needed to do this, I know. Sorry it took so long. I can only hope that those of you that have taken the time to bring it to my attention that it needed updating take the time to read it. Heck, some of you might even be in it. Not everything that has happened in our world has made it into the blog, life has to have some mystery. Besides, I don't always have the camera or don't feel it needs to be publicized. I do want to thank you for your interest in our meager lives and adventures. Comments are always welcome.

Love to All... and remember if I don't write it's because I'm out playing!

Hiking Between Hunting Seasons

Steve & Jack the Jack Russel Terrier at the edge of an Aspen stand

Over the river and through the woods.....

Okay, maybe not. More like around the cattle pond and through the Aspen but not to Grandmother's house either. Fall hiking is a beautiful thing in our area but beware of the hunters. Steve is a friend of ours who is extremely knowledgeable on the local trails, mountains and hunting season dates. We planned this hike yesterday because it falls on the off days between two hunting seasons. Here in Colorado, the hunting seasons are short (only a week or two) and there are off days in between them. This is nice for hikers and mountain bikers who would also like to enjoy the fall colors without getting shot at or sporting the blaze orange attire. We tried to go for a hike at Molas Pass (10,000 ft), only to find it too snowy for our dress. We backtracked down the road to Cascade Creek. Parking at the Forest Service parking area we had the choice of following the lower trail along Cascade creek or heading north up the Engineer trail. While the trail does eventually go all the way to Engineer Mountain, it is the long way. The more popular trail for Engineer is the trail head at the top of Coalbank pass. We chose to go high and head north, giving us more sun exposure and better views.

Me & Doug

Nice Doug butt. While I was able to smile and show my good side for the camera, Doug apparently thought his butt was his good side. We hiked a single track that switch backed up the mountain side. It went in and out of aspen stands and across hillside meadows. The air was crisp and the warm sun felt good.

Steve with the snowcapped Twilight Peaks

Keeping a watchful eye out for elk, Steve scanned the edges of the trees for movement. We never did see any that day, for we had set out too late and they were all bedded down in the cool shade. However, we did find fresh chew marks on some of the tress and hear a calf squeal off in a thicket of dense pine. We continued our climb until our bellies rumbled and the view was too good to pass up.

Looking south towards the Animas River Valley with Electra Lake shimmering in the distance

After dining on chicken salad pitas, apples and cheese; we shared some chocolate and "Cowboy Lube" for dessert. "Cowboy Lube" is a concoction of cherry liquor and some sort of brandy that Steve mixes up and puts in little packable squeeze bottles. Smooth and not harsh on the tongue, it has a way of loosening things up and making the afternoon run smoother, hence the name. With a full belly and sunshine on my shoulders, it was time for a short siesta.

Jack the Jack Russel Terrier, stood guard while Steve and I lay back to let our food settle.

We hiked down the mountain, back to the truck and called it a day. What a peaceful way to enjoy the afternoon with a good friend and a bunch of dogs.

Get Outside!!

Mountain Biking With Sam

Okay, I tried to upload this picture 4 times in the flipped right side up corrected format and every time it gave me the uncorrected version. I'm over it. Use your imagination and deal with the goofiness of us being upside down.

So, here we are in all our silliness at Phil's World (a maze of single track trails created for mountain biking) east of Cortez Colorado. Sam and I decided to embark on a girl's ride this past Monday. Being it was Columbus Day and we both had the day off work, which almost never happens (holiday for the Post Office), we thought it would be fun to go ride. We met at my house, sipped tea, leisurely loaded up the bikes and finally hit the road for a day of trails. Now, I hadn't been on my bike in sometime and Sam is a crazy kick ass kind of rider; so it was preplanned that she was allowed to push me and test my skills but had to bring me back in one piece. Bleeding, cut or scrapped was acceptable but I needed to be in working order for taking time off work would not be acceptable.

We stopped at the top of the plateau for a photo shoot. Sam was leading me on a wonderful trail ride while chatting with out ever being out of breath. Now, some will say that if you can talk you're not riding hard enough. This is probably true because she was going pretty slow so that I could keep up with her. Climbing single track over rocks and fallen logs, I don't think she ever broke a sweat.

This was the only picture of me taken on the ride. I'm sure it was because I had the camera or perhaps after this I was sweaty, dusty and not very picture worthy after this point in the day. I will admit to getting off to walk, jabbing my pedal into rocks and coming unclipped, riding the brakes until the dust squealed and cursing out loud on more than one occasion. By the middle of the ride I had found my groove again and things went pretty smooth. I finished unscathed and hungry. Before reaching the truck, which was packed with a cooler of post ride goodies, we stopped for another photo shoot.

The fall season brings the tarantula migration to the high desert. Sam whizzed by this little guy narrowly missing him with her big knobby tires. I saw him scoot off the trail, so of course, I had to stop to play and get a few shots. This was the best picture as you can get an idea of his true size. He was a bit defensive but that's what gloves are for. He was also on the smaller side of others I have seen.

We had a great afternoon on two wheels. Sam didn't kill me and I didn't end up slowing her down too much... or at least I don't think. She did agree to having fun and offered to ride with me again.


Ride it if you got it!!

Happy Anniversary!

Sign @ Wildcat Canyon Liquors in Durango

October brought a visit from Patty (my biological mother) and her husband Gary. They celebrated their 11th anniversary on October 1st. They came up to visit us for a 4 day weekend to celebrate their anniversary, our anniversary (2yrs Oct. 3rd) and Jim's birthday (date and age with held). While they were here we wandered the shops in downtown Durango and I played tour guide.

Northside of Red Mountain Pass

I took them on a scenic drive up to Silverton, over Red Mountain Pass and into Ouray. We stopped for lots of pictures, played tourist in the shops and sampled food in the local cafes. On the night of our anniversary, the four of us went to a fine dining restaurant for a delicious four course meal. Good food, good wine and great company made for a very enjoyable evening. This was a rare treat for Jim and I since we don't eat out often and when we do it's never that extravagant. (Unfortunately, we found out that evening that the restaurant would be closing within two weeks due to the current economy.) The last day of their visit was spent watching football and playing Scrabble. I fixed a pile of ribs, a skillet of baked beans, cornbread sticks and a pear upside down cake that night. We sent them off with left overs for the road the next morning. It was sad to see them go, for I'm not sure when Jim and I will get out to California to see them. It's always nice to have company and I enjoy playing tour guide.

Open invitation to any and all that would like to see the mountains... Just please call first, so we can be dressed.

The Fall Harvest

Pears, Pears, Pears ... And More Pears!!

Wow! What was I to do when our friend Joseph called and said that he needed help clearing his back yard of pears? (He had to pick them up daily or the local bears would raid his yard.) Well, being the thrifty person I am, I offered to take as many as he would give me and figure out what to do with them later. So I asked around at work for jars or advice on how to can them. A lovely lady named Linda (I work with her husband, Ernie) offered me 8 dozen jars of assorted sizes, rings and a 1973 book on pickling and preserving. I was on my way to adventures in canning! After some reading, I grabbed my paring knife and went to work. I learned to can the fruit and make jam with the book and a few phone calls. By the end of the week, I had 6 pints & 2 quarts of pears (either plain in syrup or spiced with vanilla and whole cloves), 13 pints of ginger pear preserves, 3 batches of pear cinnamon fruit leathers. I had made two pear upside down cakes and given away a large cloth grocery sack of pears. Passing along part of this wonderfully sweet and juicy burden to my coworker and friend Sam, she produced two pies and numerous loaves of pear bread. Now, my computer/pantry (our smallest spare room which houses our deep freezer, 5 gallon bucks loaded with bulk flour, sugar, pasta, rice, cases of canned goods I find on sale, our tiny computer desk and an indoor worm composter) is overflowing with jars of pear halves and preserves. I actually ran out of shelf space and started putting them in the bottom drawer of our filing cabinet. Nothing goes with tax papers like jam!

In my over zealous canning excitement, I solicited a large bag of apples from another coworker. I attempted to make applesauce with a few of them but failed. More reading and research revealed my mistakes and I am in hopes of processing the rest of them within the next couple of days into a more successful batch of applesauce.

Overall, this was quite a learning experience. I feel as though I may be carrying on part of a lost art in my kitchen. I can only hope that in the cold months to come the pears bring my taste buds tasty treat.

Can On... But Don't Get Stuck In A Jam!!

La Plata Canyon In Late August

Leslie and I started out for a hike one day in late August this year with no real destination, time line or agenda of any sorts. We only knew that we should be back before dark. So with our small day packs loaded up with food and water we took off up this 4x4 jeep road heading west from the main La Plata Canyon road.
Chatting and climbing in elevation along the road, we came into view of this basin with a small yet steep waterfall at it's mouth. We decided to head across the slope in search of water for the dogs and a nice picnic spot for ourselves.


Along the way we climbed up to this old abandoned mine. La Plata Canyon was a bustling mining area in the early 1900's. It was home to La Plata City and many mines located on the steep mountain sides. After it's hay day, most everything was abandoned and left to rot in the changing seasons. Currently, there are a few residents that reside at the south end of the main canyon in an area they call May Day. However, the mining hasn't quite become only a story in the history books. As I write this, the residents of May Day are trying to save the canyon from a new mining company coming in and tearing up the mountain sides.

Meanwhile, I was enjoying the exploration of the old stamp mill. Playing with the lighting and angles, I tried to capture some of the remaining woodwork.

Here, you can see the aged and rusting stamps used to crush the rock still intact.

We continued our trek toward the basin. Once arriving, we realized we could see snow on the higher slopes left from last winter. Of course, we had to climb up to it and build a snowman!! Okay, so he was tiny and brown from all the dust particles in the snow but he was a mighty little man. Aspen stood guard over him long enough for me to snap a picture, then she slid and knocked him down. After finding snow at over 12,000 feet it was time to eat.

We made our way across the scree filled basin floor to the small creek that created the waterfall we had seen earlier. Sitting on the rocks in the high afternoon sun, Leslie entertained me with stories of her other adventures in "The Canyon". She and her husband are one of the few May Day residents and consider the entire canyon their backyard. After a good lunch and a long rest for us and the dogs we headed back down to the car...but that wasn't the end of our day.

There were wild raspberries to be picked! With our little plastic containers in hand, we scoured the roadside bushes for ripe fruit. Small yet tasty, we picked as many as we could find that were ripe and left the others for another day. All in all it was a great way to spend a day off together. We only saw two other trucks the entire time which made for quite a peaceful hike.

Explore Your World!!

25 years later... I still love you Dad.

Late 1970's - Photographer unknown

Brooks Donavan Green

This is the small flag that represented me, my father's only daughter, at his graveside 25 years ago.

(There were 3 small flags - one for each of his children - I still treasure mine.)


In honor of my father, Brooks Green, I rolled up the flag and attached it to my motorcycle for a Memorial ride.

This was my Father - my Dad.

This is the scanned entry from "The Off-Road Racer" (1976)

by Norman T. Johnson & Gordon Grimmis

Sept. 1975 - Photographer unknown


Late 1970's - photographer Mike Rehler Santa Monica, CA



August 20, 1984

I was only 10 years old when my mother came back from a routine check-up with out my father. I grew up knowing my dad would die. From as far back as I could remember, us kids were told of my father's cancer and how he might not always be there for us. I grew up with an older brother (4 years my elder) and a younger brother (18 months my youger), we all were well aware of our father's cancer and how it would someday take him from us. I guess when you grow up knowing someone is going to die you become hardened to the fact with each passing day that they are still alive. After a while you begin to believe that they will out live the illness that you were told would take them from you. You become a nonbeliever in their death; or atleast that's how I remember it. I was young, I was "daddy's girl", or so I preceived in my innocent mind. I was often angry growing up because my father missed out on the normal things - my first pair of glasses, my braces, my first date and so on. I grew to realize that while I focused on all the immediate negatives I was failing to recognize all the things he was there for - my first steps, my first words, learning to ride a bicycle, school days and so forth. I was a lucky girl to have a dad, even if it was only for 10 years. My memories may be askew as all childrens' are but I never recall my father as a harsh man. He loved all his childern and his wife very much. He supported us in all our crazy endevors, like my flailing attempts at BMX racing. Oh, I raced don't get me wrong, I just never won or even cared too. I realized at a young age that I am not a competive person. This is a hard thing to swallow when you grow up in a racing family. My father raced off-road cars until his health didn't permit him to any longer. My younger brother raced BMX, so successfully I might add that he was sponsored. My older brother raced BMX and slot cars (how's that for an '80's flashback?). Heck, even my mother tried her hand at the Powder Puff Ladies Off-Road races in the 1970's. I, however, never discovered my "fast gene" until I was older.
This year I got my first motorcycle. I think Dad would be proud at the way I have progressed in my riding and "fastness". So many times, my thoughts drift to him as I am zipping along through the mountains with the wind in my hair. I look at my life, my husband and my son and truely believe he would be proud if he were here today. I remember my Dad letting me sit on his lap and steer his big ol' Ford pick-up down dirt roads and sippin' on his Budwieser. I remember my Dad as being fast. In fact, I remember him once saying if he ever died in a racing accident that we should drag him out of the car, kick some dirt over him and somebody should get in and finish the race. Unfortunately, dad didn't die going fast. He died slowly yet bravely from cancer. However, I must say that he was buried in his racing suit so atleast he looked fast. Thus, today in honor of my father, I took him for a ride. The day he was buried there were three small flags at his grave, one for each of us children. I have kept mine over the years. Through all my moves and crazy adventures, I have kept this small flag rolled up and by my side. Today, I decided to take it for a ride. I carefully tied it to the cables on my handelbars and went fast. (Yep, Dad we went FAST!!)
Now, in preparation for this Blog entry I realized I don't have many pictures of my father. I dug through boxes and scoured albums to no avail. I have yet only a few race photos which were given to me by my Uncle Dale (my father's brother) but that's all. I can't scan my brain and insert all the wonderfull memories that I hold so dearly there. So please forgive the old photos.

For all those that still have a father to hug, do so. Let go of all the anger and strife and be thankful for what you have. Call them up and tell them how much you love them and appreciate them for being in your life... even if you don't see eye to eye on everything. Their your father, they are allowed to be critical of you. They only want what's best.