As it turns out, rumors of our imminent departure were greatly exaggerated...

What ain't done don't need doin', what ain't packed don't need takin, and what goodbyes ain't said don't need sayin'. All what needs ta happin now is ta just get goin'. Bon Voyage, my friends, and I'm not foolin'.

That downer rain I spoke of in the last post turned into a half foot of snow...wet, heavy, slick as snot snow. There is a fine line between adventurous risk and stupidity; I cross it all the time. But not with the "girls" in my life. No, Bobbie and Goldie are off limits...irreplaceable jewels, more precious than fun. Red Rocks and Pal Boonie can wait...I know at least one of them will still be there come our much delayed arrival. 

Giddyup!

The following postcards are from our last fall hike, a close to home loop up Cutler Creek, over balding ridges of old growth aspen, and down Shortcut Draw to Storm Gulch, so as not to miss too much of the Bronco/Cowboy game—a real rootin' tootin' wild west shoot out where our "Horses" prevailed in the final seconds 51 to 48. Five and Oh, baby. Peyton Manning is a football savant.

When I said "old growth aspen" I wasn't kidding. Check out the date on the "graffiti" carved into the bark below...in 1905 someone named Sue left her mark!