We went to a local wine tasting. Tried some reds and whites from California and Oregon. They were nice but we didn’t purchase any. On the way home we stopped at Standard Market where they were having a tasting by a local craft brewery of Gin, Vodka and Aquavit. Chicago Gin, I like the sound of it. And I like the idea that they are small enough to label each bottle by hand. It was pretty tasty, made by neighbors ( although Chicagoland has about 9 million neighbors ) it’s fun to purchase locally.
North Shore Distillery – check them out if you can.
I rode my bicycle, it’s fallen to 53 degrees and stopped by a hillside. If you do like back of the envelope calculations you might count a 2 x 2 square and find it had 100 flowers and that in a space that could hold ten thousand squares you could behold a million flowers.
Or you could just saw wow.
And enjoy it before winter comes once again.
when my youngest daughter was a teenager she had a blue hair period, among other colors, but we would be out and people, especially little old ladies would often approach us out of the “blue” so to speak and tell her how attractive her hair was while I thought to myself, “Nooooooo!”
She told me one day, “Dad, they just wish they had done it when they were my age”… how could I disagree?
May you do something extra-ordinary.
When you’re in a mountain valley with no line of sight to cell towers, how does one make a phone call? Head up to the phone-booth.
You can ride up on the mountain bike, or take the car, or go natural. But a one horse powered vehicle is a pretty good way to mix technologies.
Here’s hoping you can sometimes un-plug.
Back down from the mountain, a couple more images linger. It’s hard to describe the mountain vistas, or the beauty of the flowers and I am loathe to let them go just yet.
Many mountain flowers are small and subtle, but pinks are small and brilliant
As the seasons move toward winter the colors move to brown and grey, here Blacktooth Peak sits atop it’s royal robes.
After one last view, it was time to return.
Wrapping up Wyoming for 2014, I took a cycling ride from the cabin to Bear Gulch. It was about seven miles with one thousand feet of climbing. These days, that’s a hard ride for me. At the top, the as far as I can go top, I sat on a rock and ate some local cherries we had purchased at a local farmer’s market.
Many of you who know horses may think they prefer to hang about the corral with their buds just waiting until it’s time to go out to pasture. However my I-phone horse translator tells me that this one was saying… “What do you mean you didn’t take me to Bear Gulch with all the sweet grass… Are you crazy ? ” My legs and lungs said I should have listened.
The cabin is a long ride up the mountain and the road is rough so when Jan stocks up at the grocery store I check for any local root-beer.
Bedfords comes in a manly bottle, no twist off cap – you need an opener, or as I have seen, teeth, or an eye socket. This root beer takes me back to the good old days.
This one has a big strong flavor. It’s not as smooth as some from the East coast, but the big flavor makes it unique.