Thursday we swam out before the melt and once to pavement had a clear dry drive all the way

to Pueblo, where I ran around town, sun warming the morning, while Linda endured five replacement fillings and several off-color jokes at her dentist’s.  By the time she emerged the skies had darkened, temperature was dropping and as we sheltered in Jorge’s a full-on blizzard blew through town from the north.  We accompanied it down the interstate to Red Rock Road,

cut west through the winds to the Huerfano where all turned relatively calm and definitely bright.  At the Libre parking lot Travis, a neighbor from across Turkey Creek,

was firing up an eight-wheel drive tracked multipurpose vehicle [not shown] with which he plowed all the roads and left us with better access and chill blue days at the end of one

of which we celebrated an interestingly belated Thanksgiving Dinner while the beginning of

another saw us on our longest walk yet [and longest time taken to get to such a walk ever] up

to Dean’s, a visit we usually make within a day or so after arriving as opposed to four weeks later, to see what he’d been up to, which proved to be the Mt. Meru paintings,

a trapezoidal obsession.

Weather re-warmed, snow subsided yet again, but only through the weekend;

Monday came up, hungover after an intense dinner with the kids, with a low mean overcast turning to flurries; I had to sweep my way over to the studio, swept my way back.  As Kirk Robertson famously said “If you don’t like the weather/ look out the other window” but

that was Nevada; here we waited most of the day for the change to sun shining

on late afternoon’s crystalline powder.

A studio tour; L’s model for “Artesian”, two as yet untitled 4x4s from upstairs, upstairs…

and out the door, “Timbre”, 1990,

further out yet, stumbling around in the late January woods, who knew that in 2019 we’d still

be enjoying F—book, Julian Assange, Donald Trump [and the whores that rode in on him] – wotta wunnerful world, eh?