Bob and Ned roomed together at Colorado University in the ’70s and have a long history of posing implacably behind their sunglasses.

We took Emily and John to lunch in downtown Denver at Park & Co, less than a mile from 1600 Glenarm Place, where I cooked and cashiered at Stouffer’s more than fifty years ago.

We spent two days with Rob and Sharyl, friends since 1990 when Bob and I worked with Rob at Data Entry Products (DEP). On Wednesdays, we’d leave work early and four of us would motor around  Horsetooth Reservoir in our shared boat, taking turns on a boogie board. I married Bob in July of 1994, and Rob and Sharyl married three months later.

Bob and Rob contentedly discussed many topics of importance in the shade of the big trees.

Bob and I threw in with each other in the spring of 1992 and began living together in my Loveland, Colorado apartment.

Eventually, we moved a few blocks away to a standalone house at 913 Franklin Avenue, which had a second bedroom for the girls. There was a basketball hoop outside the garage where we played many games of horse. We used the garage like a covered patio for cocktails with friends or to paint our daughter’s fingernails with pink polish. We called it the pallet house because our bedroom walls appeared to be constructed from pallets.

Next, we rented an old house on two acres with room for our saddle horses outside of town. This is where we stood on the porch and said our vows aloud in front of our friends.

That place was close to the Big Thompson River, and we rode our horses, Jesse and Penny, down there several times a week.

Now a medical clinic, this is where we worked until DEP sold to Lucas Varity, and we relocated to Williamsburg, Virginia.

Ten years later, we returned to Colorado, settling into a clean and airy apartment in Berthoud within walking distance to Bob’s new job at Biodiesel Industries, the grocery store, post office, library, and farmers’ market.

We did not miss having our own yard and gardens as we initially feared. The apartment was a short walk to nearby parks, all of Berthoud’s streets were lined with shady trees, and we had a roomy patio on the back of the building. We parked our bicycles and an under-driven 1995 Ford Escort in the back. At that time, Habitat for Humanity occupied the building next door, where I volunteered in their used book department.

Much remains of our old life along Colorado’s Front Range, especially our friendships. We fondly remember ice skating on Lake Loveland, riding our horses in the Corn Roast Festival Parade, hunting for wild asparagus, and happy gatherings. It was gratifying to visit places that were once part of our lives.

Our drive up scenic Highway 101 felt as adventuresome as it looks in the movies, only with Bob behind the wheel of a GMC Terrain instead of a red convertible and no one wearing a scarf.

We stopped to eat sandwiches from our cooler at Otter Crest State Scenic Viewpoint and saw a Gray Whale in the water far below.

Haystack Rock, home to Tufted Puffins, looms in the coastal fog, removing all hope of adding a new bird to our life list. Even if we’d brought a telescope, there would not be any puffin sightings on this day.

You take what you can get, so we settled for a big, wooden puffin.

I think wind farms are beautiful and am perplexed by people who don’t appreciate their simple magic.

It was a beautiful day along the Mighty Columbia.

Bonneville Dam was a must-see. Moving water always moves me. I believe it’s the negative ions.

The dam blocked fish from migrating upstream to spawn, so the engineers built a fish ladder.

It takes lots of muscle and DNA imperative to spawn another generation of steelhead or salmon.

When life throws you garbage, turn it into something flashy. At least this stuff is no longer in the river.

I knew there must be a good reason why this border collie needed protective eyewear, but didn’t have the courage to ask their owners.

An hour further, and Bob stopped in front of Gunkel Orchards. We were there for peaches, but after tasting their nectarines, we bought them instead, all in agreement that they had the best flavor.

The Stonehenge Memorial near Maryhill was another place Bob had visited during his work travels.

The next day, we drove north to Mt. St. Helens. This destination was on my wish list. As you may know, this mountain blew its top in 1980. I had seen it in its moonscape form five years later and was interested in seeing how its recovery was coming along.

Well, it still appeared scarred by the blast, but had a whole lot more green than it had forty years ago.

We stopped at the visitor center to watch a video showing the blast and hear some of the stories about that terrifying day. We were surprised to learn that the people closest to the eruption felt their houses shake but heard no sound.

After meandering through the museum, we went for a hike and Bob found a friend.

Amy stopped to admire many flowers, and one of them turned out to be an orchid.

We flew over Mt. Hood and could see Mt. St. Helens in the background.

So that was the sightseeing leg of our tour. I think we did a very nice job impersonating tourists.

Everyone in Astoria lives on a slant. This is why god made emergency brakes. Astoria has hills akin to those in San Francisco and Knoxville, Tennessee. Roads that drop out from underneath your car and plunge toward deep water.

Bob presented Tine with a Jedi logo flag because we’re really into flags these days, and he was pretty sure Tine would like this one.

Tine took us for a walk at a nearby demonstration forest where we learned a whole lot about forestry and tree management. If you’re wondering what’s a Clatsop, well, the Clatsop were the original people of this region. Before the white people came.

The forest is mainly planted in Douglas-fir and western redcedar. We got to see both managed and untouched forests on either side of the trail. While I’d love to say that Mother Nature knows best, the managed trees looked larger and healthier than the untouched trees.

Bob and Amy trying to identify a tree that is neither a Douglas-fir nor a western redcedar.

Everything out here on the Oregon Coast is ginormous, even the slugs.

Amy and I split off to do an extra loop and encountered some really big trees. This one looks like a cedar.

Next stop: the Astoria Column, an “artful summary of the triumphs, conflicts and turning points of the frontier.” At the base of the column is an image of a forest populated by animals and the words “Before White People Arrive.” Notably missing are the Clatsop people who had occupied the region for tens of thousands of years.

If you wanted, you could climb the spiral staircase to the top and look out across the Columbia River at Washington State on the other side. I thought this was a great idea, so up I went.

A view across the river.

After all that walking, we were ready for something to eat, and Tine knew just the place.

When I asked Tine for a low-traffic route to the river, she set me on course. The streets she chose were not whizzing with cars, but were instead populated by deer who regarded me with mild curiosity.

Tine had grown excited when she mentioned the pigeon steps and I soon understood why. They practically beg to be taken.

It was still early when I arrived at the river.

I saw a giant slug hugging—humping? can’t get the previous image out of my mind—a not-open-for-business food truck. Which was just as well because I found the slug unappetizing.

So I turned around and walked back up the pigeon steps, which took a lot more effort than I had imagined on my way down.

Tine was a wonderful host, and we were happy for the break between our drive up the coast from Cottage Grove and more touring ahead. Stay tuned for Mt. St. Helens, the Bonneville Dam Fish Ladder, and other interesting Pacific Northwest destinations.

We began our long vacation in Denver, spent a day with Amy’s older sister, Emily, and another day with Amy’s younger sister, Molly, visited some friends, and then flew to Oregon.

Bob had rented a place outside the tiny town of Drain, half an hour from Amy and Jasper. When I told our host I was a walkaholic, he pointed out a woodsy path behind our room and, in the other direction, the gravel road we’d driven in on.

I walked both ways both mornings, taking note of two little deer who were as curious about me as I was about them.

It was berry season, which added time and calories to the walks.

On the woodsy side of things, we encountered moss and lichen, something we have in much smaller amounts back home.

We stopped at a bakery on the way to Cottage Grove and scored some hand pies for breakfast.

Amy and Jasper live in a surprisingly spacious tiny house built inside a large barn.

When it was time, we sang the Happy Birthday song, which I am certain we are somehow born knowing, since I cannot remember ever not knowing how to sing it.

I’ve only met one person in my life who didn’t know what to do next. You make a wish and blow out the candle! Equally important, you must keep your wish a secret or it will not come true.

Amy was born on a Saturday, for what that’s worth. Bob was Thursday-born, and I arrived on a Friday.

Osha, now a mature dog (we remember her as a pup), has been with Amy and Jasper for as long as they’ve been together.

And we met their cat, Scrumpie.

Bob gave Osha’s comfortable bed a test drive after she got up to lie beneath the table.

Stools are cool, perfect for small spaces, portable for camping, and close to the ground for tending fires and petting dogs. By the end of the day, I had an appreciation for Amy and Jasper’s well-crafted lifestyle of simple relaxation, and saw how it reflected their down-to-earth values.

No Wifi, no TV, no cell service. “If you need us, just honk your horn,” our hosts told us. A writer’s haven if I’ve ever seen one.

I knew these were my people when I saw the loop trail. Bob and Amy were also ready to stretch their legs, so we set down our bags and went for a walk.

We noticed right away one tree that seemed out of place. We later learned it was a Monkey Puzzle tree, native to South America, thriving in Washington State as an ornamental.

The trail wound through ferns and firs which seemed to grow larger the further we went.

We were soon surrounded by moss and shrinking into the forest like Alice in Wonderland.

Fallen trees nurture forest life. After I’ve lain down for the last time, I’d like to do the same.

Here’s a tree that was once a small seed, which took root in the fallen nurse tree and now has grown straight and tall.

Now we were in the stuff of fairy tales, half expecting to see a wolf in a bonnet or a small hut with a very large chimney.

Back in the hideaway, we rummaged through our road provisions and settled on grilled tofurky and cheese sandwiches for dinner. Each time we reached for our phones, we realized there was no point. I wondered if I would make it until tomorrow to check my texts.

After sundown, we stepped outside to look at the stars and saw the lanterns.

If we’d had any doubt these were our people, the lanterns and the ball jar of crayons next to the guest book settled it for us.

The next morning, I took the loop alone and went beyond, finding evidence of mankind, a rusted car that reminded me of an upturned beetle.

I froze when I heard a loud snap. And froze again when I heard another. Perhaps I was about to see a bear! Holding my breath, I stepped closer to the sound, wishing I’d brought my invisibility cloak.

Time stretched as I watched the ferns rustle. Maybe it was an invisible bear. Finally, common sense prevailed, and I looked into the overstory to see a few squirrels knocking pinecones to the ground.

I turned and headed back. I’d had enough of an adventure. Two shelf mushrooms waved goodbye, a little mockingly, I thought.

Bob and Amy had enjoyed a good catch-up. I told them my bear story before diving into a bowl of granola, blueberries, and soy milk. We left replenished, fully oxygenated, with our sleep tanks topped off. Unplugging had been as easy as falling off a log.

Bob began planning our time out west last year, and I started training immediately. In the past, travel zapped me royally, but this time I was determined to return home unscathed.

On day two, after a good night’s sleep, we picked up our oldest daughter, Emily, said hello to her cats, Rufus and Cortado, and drove down to the Denver Botanic Gardens. Just the three of us on a brilliant day.

The air was as crisp as a fall apple with a full-throated “Colorado Blue” sky, a color we call “Carolina Blue” back home.

Many of the plants in their tropical collection felt familiar, reminding us of our summers with the girls in Belize, on Guam, and Hawaii twenty-plus years ago.

I cannot think of a better way to refresh and connect than a stroll among oxygen-exhaling eye candy.

Naturally, we lingered over the orchids as Bob identified species in his private collection.

We encountered a giant picture frame, and I saw how it made me both focus and detach.

We were drawn to a massive sculpture which I initially mistook for a real flower. When I realized it was made of glass, that only made it cooler. It shone brightly even after ten years outdoors, making me wonder how you would clean such a thing.

A bench—cleverly constructed of woven branches—beckoned, but we resisted and kept on moving.

These Dr. Suessian flowers reminded me of vintage hats.

We encountered dahlia blooms as big as Emily’s head.

By the end of the day, I felt calm and energized, and I knew this trip would be different. Here’s the formula I came up with for stress-free travel:

Always get a good night’s sleep
Walk around outdoors as much and as often as possible
Eat real food, staying away from sugar and processed food
Pace yourself socially, detach when necessary
Avoid screen time

And it worked! I returned home nearly two weeks later, aglow with memories and no worse for wear.

Denver was essentially a cow town turned hippie haven when I first set down roots here in 1972. Located on the last miles of flatland before the Rocky Mountains, Denver’s ecosystem is dry prairie grassland, treeless except for what grows along the rivers and creeks. And that would be Cottonwoods.

After we landed, Bob led us through Denver International Airport to the train, to the rental car shuttle, and to the National Car Rental lot, and within an hour or so we were at Mahlon’s door. He greeted us with great hugs.

Mahlon’s apartment was clean and tidy, a loud nose-thumb toward the “sloppy bachelor” trope. Seriously, uncluttered counters and (yes, I got a glimpse into his closet) clothes hangers all spaced two inches apart. There was just enough of everything and not too much of anything.

After lunch, I excused myself for some outdoor time. Mahlon walked me out to the sidewalk and pointed south, “Go down to Pecos and back,” he said, then turning, “And if you want more, walk up to the light,” he gestured towards Huron Street.

I strode off briskly like a loose pup, resisting the urge to leap into the air until I was respectfully out of sight, overjoyed to be moving after the long, sedentary morning. It was a spectacular day. Cool air, warm sun, Colorado Blue sky (we call it Carolina Blue back home) with flowering shrubs and lavender flanking the wide, level sidewalk. This being Colorado, one of the healthiest states in the country, other people were about: jogging, dog-walking, and pushing strollers.

This is when I spotted my first wizened Cottonwood tree. I stood in reverence, my affinity for Denver blossoming in my chest.

I remembered riding borrowed horses along the city ditches in the ’70s and ’80s and our rides on Jesse and Penny down to the Big Thompson east of Loveland in the ’90s.

A couple of days later, we had lunch with Molly and Shane and their longtime friends, Alex and Jade, at the Lake House in Littleton. Molly has several times mentioned how much Alex reminds her of me, and this was our first opportunity to meet. Molly was right, Alex and I have similar profiles and many traits in common. Someone mentioned that we should adopt Alex and Jade, and Bob and I enthusiastically agreed. So now we have five daughters!

Molly and Bob took the opportunity to catch up while the rest of us walked the Clement Park Lake Trail. This time I couldn’t help myself. I took off running and Jade sprinted to overtake me in her dress and hiking boots. Laughing, we returned to Alex and Shane only to burst into childish exuberance the next time either of us had the urge. Soon we were straying from the pavement to chase fat-bellied prairie dogs, Alex calling after us, “Don’t touch them! They’ve got mange. Maybe Bubonic Plague.”

A pair of boys wheeled towards us, asking if we’d like them to catch a prairie dog. “Yes!” we screamed and they flung down their scooters. The larger boy gave chase and at the last minute the chubby pest dove into a hole with a indignant chirp.

The smaller boy crouched low like a border collie, milking the limelight, and crept towards another plump rodent. Then with a wiggle of his hips he flew forward. For a minute, we thought the boy would win, but his intended target also scampered away unmolested.

We were more than halfway around the lake now and Jade and I had settled down, chatting idly with the adults about movies and such. We came upon some old Cottonwoods and I shared my thoughts about reconnecting to my years in Colorado and about how much I loved climbing trees as a child.

Jade, too remembered fondly her tree-climbing youth. “I haven’t climbed a tree for ten years,” I said wistfully. “All I need is a limb I can reach and I can walk my feet up the trunk,” I said. “The trees at home all branch out too far up to reach.”

“What about this one?” Jade asked and a minute later, she was up and urging me to try.

It was a hard-won battle. Grasping the branch nub, I got my right foot wedged between twin trunks, and willed my leg to raise me from clinging to standing while Jade cheered me on. I doubt I would have made it without her encouragement.

It took a long time for the euphoria to dissipate and settle into my bones. Since then I’ve felt connected and rejuvenated, and sure that I won’t ever stop absorbing the world of people, plants, and animals with childlike delight.

First stop: Steve’s place to see Steph and spend the night.

The four of us went to dinner at Taqueria Guadalajara.

After we returned from the Taqueria, Steph surprised me with the birthday song and a lit candle on a ramekin of homemade chocolate mousse. Our birthdays are four days apart, mine June 4th and hers June 8th, so I sang in her name and we both made wishes.

There’s nothing better than a friend who sees you for who you are and still wants to hang out.

The next day we stopped at John and Darla’s for lunch. More family photos at Bob and Deb’s Anniversary Party.

Then we went to see Matt and Jenn out at the farm. Here’s that story: Getting Rural with Matt and Jenn.

After breakfast with Matt and Jenn, we drove south to Lancaster for Bob and Deb’s Anniversary party. Many more photos of that delightful gathering here.

Later, we checked into a sweet BnB surrounded by greenery at the top of a steep hill in Litiz, Pennsylvania. No need for dinner after the big spread at Bob and Deb’s, so I went for a walk. Lucky for me, I soon discovered a lush walking trail that looped around the University of Pittsburgh Medical Center.

We slept well with open windows bathing us in a wonderful night breeze and woke early, so I hit the trail again.

This time I noticed a metal building with a sign on it saying, Horse Shelter, which at first struck me as whimsical. A moment later it dawned on my that the building was actually designed for horses.

Well, of course. We were in Amish country, and they need parking, too. So in addition to acres of asphalt car parking, there was this very nice shelter. I lingered, willing a buggy to appear. But we had other fish to fry, so I walked returned to our room and prepared for Day Three of our little road trip.

Because one birthday isn’t enough, we returned to Winchester to celebrate Steph’s actual birthday on June 8th. This time we chose Asian.

Steve had baked a cake, so we had that for dessert with ice cream. Steph wore a blouse we had made for her in Ghana in 2013.

Later that afternoon, we had the best time hanging out with our hosts, Jimmie and Jacki, at Deo Volente Farm, watching their horses graze, and telling tall tales.

I got in a nice walk the next morning, down Lonesome Road to the river and back.

Bob had already loaded the car and was relaxing with the animals when I made my way back up the long driveway. The smile he is giving me in this picture is the same warm smile he always has for me. He makes me feel seen and loved.

It wasn’t far to Richmond, where we had been invited to lunch at Jacob and Lyssa’s place.  Bob and Jacob are former workmates. They were delightful company, had made tea and salad, baked bread and quiche, and cut up fresh fruit.

I was pleasantly surprised to have as much social energy for our last stop as I had going into our four-day trip. It hasn’t always been this way. I’m an introvert and usually burn out the first day.

Not this time. I have found a simple formula that works:

• Get plenty of sleep
• Walk around outside, ideally morning and evening
• Eat right
• Leave the laptop at home

And then Bob drove us back to Moncure to resume our happy retirement lives back home, flush with good memories from our little road trip.

Bob and Deb’s thirty-fifth wedding anniversary gave us an excuse to see most everyone in one place. Joe flew into Pennsylvania from California, Taylor and Theresa from Utah, and the rest of us drove in.

Brother Bob put together a photographic history of their lives, and we had fun finding our youthful selves in the pictures.

It was a relaxed atmosphere. We arrived early so some of us could take a stroll, but were soon turned back by a cloudburst to sprawl across the sofa, nibble at carrots and dip, examine the story boards, and tell each other funny stories.

My niece, Theresa, entertained me with talk about the challenges she faces in her work. During the winter, she serves as an EMT on ski patrol along with some hospitality. In the off-season she does fire prevention work. She said that she is more at home on skis or in workboots with a chainsaw than catering to priveleged tourists.

Our hosts, Bob and Deb, went to great lengths to host their this gathering and were pleased when everything fell into place.

When it was time, we helped ourselves to salad, pasta with two kinds of sauce, two kinds of meat, rolls, and a good selection of desserts. I mixed both the white and red sauce when I returned for seconds, and it was so good I don’t know why I don’t always make two sauces.

I thought of my mother and how she would mix leftover spaghetti sauce into one of two pans of macaroni and cheese and put both, baked to steaming, on the dinner table. The flavor of the mixed sauces made me feel as if Mom was right beside me, thrilled to see so many of us together.

BOB’S PORTRAIT GALLERY

Bob enjoys taking portraits with his 56mm lens. He always asks permission, and few hesitate for long before warming up to the idea. He puts people at ease and captures candid smiles.

JOHN AND DARLA’S

We stopped at John and Darla’s the day before the anniversary party. Darla prepared an extensive Taco Bar with produce grown by her cousin next door. Most of us saved room for apple pie.

Charity joined us on her lunch break with her two youngest, Alex and Joel. Her husband, Jason, stopped by later to pick up their boys after Charity returned to work, but we didn’t get his picture because we were busy lounging and because he was in his mechanic’s clothes.

Matt and Jenn live out in the country, not far from their day jobs at Dickinson College Farm. Matt usually gives us a farm tour while Jenn finishes up her work, then we all have dinner. This time, we spent the night. The next morning, Jenn took me and Pepe for a walk, a couple of country miles, the rural version of a walk around the block.

When we got back to the house, Matt said that he and Bob had watched us walking on the other side of the big field while they drank their coffe and that Bob had said Jenn and I looked like we were riding bicycles. I pressed Bob for an explanation and he said it was because of fast we were traveling and because our heads were not bobbing up and down. I blushed, thinking, “That’s us, fast and smooth.”

Jenn served me a cup of Dandy Blend, a great coffee alternative made with roasted dandelion root, chickory, barley, and rye. Matt fried eggs from the next door hens on a big griddle and served them with toast and jelly. I took out the uneaten store-bought Key Lime Pie I’d brought along as a gift to myself.  We had meant to eat it after dinner the previous night, but none of us had room for it then, so now seemed like a good time. I sliced it into six pieces, which was a mistake being as how the recommended portion, an eighth of a pie, contains a whopping forty-one grams of added sugar. But we all ate it and then we got in one more hug and left with a big sugar buzz.

FARM TOUR

Let’s back up to the previous day when Matt took us out for a tour of the farm. Matt and Bob met at a Colorado biodiesel conference nearly twenty years ago and we’ve been coming to see him and Jenn at Dickinson College Farm ever since. There they run a CSA, some livestock, and a biogas project.

This dragon sculpture protects the nexxus between the farm and the biodigester project. Maybe it is the inspiration for the biogas flare.

Farm tours begin in an outdoor classroom where a blackboard describes the anerobic digestion process.

Pepe waits patiently outside the pavillion.

While the neighbor’s cows lounge beneath some shade trees.

Storm clouds amass on the horizon.

The digester uses cow manure and food waste to create both electricity and heat in a multi-farm collaborative.

Bob thinks this cow’s markings resemble a werewolf.

Several animals wore perfect triangles on their foreheads.

Inputs include culled apples which Matt loads into the digester.

We love watching Matt work because he does nothing half way.

Matt and Bob geeking out in the control room.

Behind us is the digester tank, where the biogas is produced. We have been following Matt’s progress for years, each year getting more sophisticated and producing more biogas.

Here are links to some of our previous farm tours:

Matt’s World

Annual Dickinson College Farm Tour

Dickinson College Farm – May, 2012

Touring Dickinson Farm

Dickinson Farm – Matt & Jenn