Once the curators and their children were up the hill and down the road

we made a trip to Bill’s before settling in

to a week sporadically sprinkled with grandchild visitations as well as rain, sun

and a visit all together to the site of our neighbors’ ambitious [and soon to be realized] artist retreat center a coupla miles down the road where the BVM beneficently watches over the

Buddhists as they stake out the layout for their live-in community workspace with vast views.

Old Favorites, another subject entirely;

Other Favorites included beans with wild mushrooms, Pueblo green chili Sicilian sausage and some summer corn on evenings not too wet to barbecue

or stones or

the Mariposa Lily.

Up Dry Creek, which hasn’t been, we gathered soggy mushrooms but with a succession of rainy non-drying days the studio began to smell like the inside of an old tire until a few hours of sunshine finally salvaged the lot, inside and out.

[Luz finally finished Linda’s Christmas Chev…now all I have to do is put that carb back in Trigger]

The social whirlpool swirled all week long; a great dinner that ran WAY late preceded a Libre workday on the roof of the library, interrupted by rain but ultimately heroically completed by

Leon, then a dinner at Bill and Muriel’s with a cast of several unknown characters, more rain, and all too soon after those two a final barbecue heavy on the meats, which ended earlier

than the others as all concerned had to be up at five, off by 6:30, blocked by horses but

onto the pavement by sunup. Suddenly it’s the DIA dropoff at 9:30 for Luz, Christine and Izel

and then, a mere nine days since waiting there to collect them, we were back at the cellphone lot alone for a burrito by ten.  While droning three hours up the freeway to il aereoporto no

pics were taken and few on the Return…unto the Springs, the UCCS Ent Cent [-er for the Arts],

still in process but where L. will have a show a year from [about] now into December 2018.

After a swell lunch with Daisy McGowan reality and rain squalls assaulted us all the way to

Pueblo, with Errands Three Ways until, 4:24 and desperately ready for Home, we found I-25

shut down [gee…didn’t this happen just last week with a “car fire”?], all traffic routed without explanation onto 50 East with no further instructions, necessitating a self-guided tour through Pueblo’s east side barrio, crossing tracks and river to fortuitously emerge onto Northern, locate the understandably untrafficked Interstate and head south. Libre, where the Entrance to the Community was beginning to look considerably perked up, was achieved a mere twelve hours

after our departure.  Saturday, a sadder day now that the kids are back in Brooklyn,

we experienced a daunting harvest of boletes up the creek, after which

L. went to the dump,

etc.