It would figure that the one winter we miss out on camping in southern Aridzona is nearing the mildest on record. It's going to be mid eighties mid week! Last winter Bobbie and I were wading snow on Madera's trails, and Goldie had icicle stalactites proliferating from every eave and gutter. The Forest Service even barricaded the road to the campground, which sled dog SueBee Subaru promptly circumvented with ease. Hey, she's a Colorado Girl.
All in all, though, it has been relatively mild and quite sunny here in Lovely Ouray—upper 30's to lower 40's—so I've been getting out of the Fevered Cabin to hike, walk (albeit gingerly), and work on my tan. There are plenty of icy spots in shade, enough to slip you upside-down, but Oak Street's muddy potholes are nearly dried out thanks to pitiful snowfall. One day at a time, you know, one day at a time; freedom and summer eventually comes to those who wait…and wait…and wait.
When housebound, I circle from writing on the laptop, to playing the Korg keyboard, to riding the exercise bike, to dabbling in watercolors. It's to the point where I'm threatening to drag the guitar off the closet shelf and have another go at it. I have become the proverbial "butterfly," flitting from flower to flower. It recently dawned on me that if one spreads themselves thin enough amongst multiple passions, they can literally get away with accomplishing damn near nothing (sigh).
The above watercolor should have gone on yesterday's post as it is an old rendering of a remote ghost town near the Rio Grande in the Big Bend area of Texas. Now on to Tucson, with its "Old Town" juxtaposed against the New, and some of my favorite points south of there.
The above photo is from Old Town Tucson; me thinks it needs to be rendered in watercolor…"therapy," you know.
And the beat goes on.