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Priest Gulch RV Camp, Rocky Mountains, Colorado

March 1st, 2016. It’s snowing this morning in Minnesota. We woke to a couple of inches, and it is so beautiful. I’m grateful for the fact I don’t have to drive in it, and I thank my neighbor for clearing my walkway. However, I’m going to enjoy the luxury of watching flurries. Flurries, what a wonderful word for dancing snowflakes that swirl, drift, then settle on deck bannister and tree branch. The snow can’t last at this time of year, but today the neighborhood is covered in a quiet blanket of beauty. I thank God for the blanket. I thank God for the beauty. Something beautiful every day–that’s in my recipe for a good life.

In spring of 1977 a late snow drove us out of our riverside camp to Priest Gulch RV Park in the Rocky Mountains of Colorado. We were at Priest Gulch for several days. The weather was rainy and chilly. Regardless, Don and the children went rock collecting, then brought rocks back to the trailer table to identify. Between showers I walked around with my sketch notecards. In ten minutes time I tried to sketch as many scenes as I could. That’s what Hugh Cabot, a real artist, suggested when I met him in Arizona. I was trying out his recommendations of pen, 5×7 notecards, and metal clipboard. It all worked great, except for the metal clipboard, which was too heavy to lug around. Those quick sketches started the day, a good discipline for any artist.

We visited with our RV neighbors. The children caught up on school work. I caught up on laundry and housecleaning. When we were ready to move on, we headed for the family farm and springtime out on the prairie. The rest of the story is in my book: The Road to Beaver Park.

 

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