Last winter we drove south to escape the polar vortex and spent a week in New Symrna Beach, Florida staying in a tiny condo across from the Atlantic Ocean. Even though it rained for most of our stay, it was wonderful to be warm and to photograph the dramatic sky. Continue reading
Growing up near Buffalo, New York, fall was my favorite season. Fall there is made up of rich hues of red, orange, yellow, green, and brown. I loved the crisp air, playing soccer, watching football, jumping in leaves, and watching nature’s amazing paintings all around me. I spent last fall in New Mexico and the 14 before that in Pelham near New York City.
In my last post I mentioned that Joshua Tree National Park has nine campgrounds, which are all available on a first-come, first-served basis, and when we visited the park on Friday and Saturday all nine were full. We arrived again on Tuesday and a couple of the campgrounds were crowded but we had a few options in the Jumbo Rocks campground. Many of the spots are close together, so we chose one that had a bit of separation from the neighbors, put our “reserved” sign up, and went out hiking to watch the sunset. 
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Though the Wonder Valley turned out to have an appeal all it’s own, the reason we rented a house in Twentynine Palms, California was its proximity to Joshua Tree National Park.
OK – Taos. All that I wrote about the drive from Pueblo Colorado to Taos, New Mexico was true, except for some specific details, details that I’m not sure need to be covered in a blog more or less about beer. Suffice it to say we left a bar in Pueblo, Colorado around 11pm and drove 35 miles through a blinding snow storm to a rest stop, tucked ourselves into bed in the back of our Element with pie in the sky hopes that the snow would subside by morning, it didn’t. Using a Frisbee (it was early October so we were unprepared for a blizzard) I cleared as much snow off the car as I could and we were off towards Walsenburg, Colorado, where we stopped for coffee, bought bad gas and caught up on email before moving further on towards Taos.
The snow in the morning
The fall after I finished college I jumped at the chance to travel by helping a friend move to France (in reality I’m not sure what help I was providing since I didn’t speak French and she had many of her things shipped, but I digress…) The plan was to spend two weeks in Paris and eastern France with my friend and then I’d make my way back to Paris, meet Pearson, and we’d take a train to Italy. So I left my job, packed way too much stuff, and headed across the Atlantic.
continued….. It’s Friday night, we’re in Denver and the Great American Beer Fest is happening! Unfortunately it’s sold out and has been since an hour after tickets went on sale six months ago, all the same to us as we’re enjoying being outside and experiencing the city not as a couple of drunken blithering idiots. Our hotel is a few miles out of town in a congested suburban hell, where lifeless row houses, condos, supermarkets, and minivans distract from the gorgeous rocky mountain views. However, behind the “progress” lies incredibly flowy bike and walking trails that criss-cross through an open range like plaid patterns in a lumberjack’s shirt.
The trails from the back of the hotel…
When the sun fully sinks into the horizon, as it glows brightly and then fades into glorious hues of orange, purple, red, and dissipates into the darkening blue sky, for those moments nothing else matters. All my problems—arguments, finances, work, failures, stress—are forgotten for those perfect, suspended moments. In those precious minutes I just am. I exist and breathe and am part of the world.
This is to a king who does not swing….and kind of tastes like fizzy water syrup….as the question has come up, “Why do I often post photographs of me holding a Budweiser to advertise that there is a new blog post?” Well, hopefully the next few hundred words will be entertaining and shed some light as to why I don’t put the “king of beers” down and it has nothing to do with it’s beechwood aging.
King of Sessions
