and the dogs remained blameless.

But very happy to see us and regain their freedoms after being housebound save for a small morning outing ending before eight when we rolled out under the smoke, coming up on

a poking SUV at the Lazy S turn.  Since as L points out it’s rude to pass anyone on the dirt around here we cruised the rest of the way to the highway in their dust. They took off like a

shot as soon as they hit pavement and half a smoky hour later [the camera, ever putting a smily face on the atmosphere, always makes it clearer than in actuality] we pulled in for gas at Colorado City, then droned up 25 non-stop to the Springs in time to peruse Coaltrain for wines

before our date at the Ent Center to see Daisy, Stephanie and The Spaces_Between exhibition, which deserves more pictures than these but is well worth visiting online. In the gallery a wall spanning installation of deconstructed maps, “Emanate” by Rebecca DiDomenico, was stunning, Dani Dodge’s video installation is worth a look and David Jones’ “Truckstop For The Interstate That Never Was” brought to mind our friend Michael C. McMillen, in a good way.

We ventured outside to visit and measure “Cloak of the Motion”, which will be returned to Wall in the fall, and afterwards took in a small sampling of outdoor works scattered among the lush

native grasses planted to restore and preserve the natural environment around the Ent which the owners of the shopping center with its acres of paved parking across the six-lane divided

boulevard to the west have seen fit to protest, forcing the Unversity into expensively mowing at their own expense for reasons indecipherable [other than = RICH assholes being exactly that].

We made it to Pueblo’s north end sewing machine repair and post office with enough time for lunch at Fritanga’s, the other restaurant Linda’s dentist had recommended [Mexican – D.F. Mexican – like we’d never had, in a good way – great way!] and shopping at the Vitamin Cottage next door before my two o’clock hour with Dr. Grimard turned into two + and somewhat grim news about the state of my aging rotting roots [to be continued]. The only upside to that was

Linda was able to connect with a lady downtown for the clay she’ll need to model the base of a sculpture currently in the works…but by then it was five p.m. and the still-smoky road beckoned; home to blameless if desperate dogs ten hours after leaving, the light reminiscent

of La Cañada in the fifties, when I’d walk along Verdugo to Montrose, looking longingly over fences at yards filled with miscreants’ primered ’40 Ford tudors…well this light maybe not quite as orange, but close. Dinner was minimal; wine on the porch, vistas obscuras,

same flatness the next day but enough energy early on to summit Fossil Hill and over. On a more modest late afternoon walk we observed [and puzzled over] an exploded plastic inevitable or at least Leon’s inexplicably exploded plastic watertank on the saddle…perhaps

it was too many years in the sun but, 1/4″ thick, wh?  Meanwhile later, the daily deluge…

though not here, not for dinner, albeit a most entertaining show [lightning not shown], ultimately contributory to the continuing intended entropy of Christine’s adobe remnants.

On another day, doldrums for whatever reasons, sun on a painting from another lifetime,

a day ending sipping the Wine of the Distant Rodent* as weather blew in…or through.

Then Saturday [after all it HAD been a whole three [3] days without going anywhere] we

abandoned the Inkies and ventured adventuresomely into Walsenburg

to Charles Parson’s VFW Hall Bar [bar not shown] and art storage for a last event connected to

“The Space[s] Between” which after snacks, drinks and milling about adjourned to SISU,

his sculpture park and familial retreat between Farisita and Gardner,

for history, climate and entertainment in the form of Charles’ leading those gathered

on an informative tour of the many works around the property, partway through which L., feeling the sun overmuch, and I, having strained [re-strained, actually, having done something

similar to it in the studio a week or so prior] a thigh, took our leave.

And Left, turning right and right again, up the middle road

for home where while L. ran Libre Errands of Mercy I limped into the woods with the dogs

and back to

an eventual belated dinner al fresco al porcho con poochoes,

watching as rains swept the valley below.

 

*The Far Mouse Red; far mouse = distant rodent.