Rocky Mountain view from Flagstaff near Boulder

Hello all – after a long break I’ve decided it’s time to re-enter this space that has been quiet and unused for the past few months. For some reason the thought of coming back to this blog was daunting, and in some ways painful, and I couldn’t quite grasp why I was feeling those emotions. As trite as it might sound, I realized I lacked perspective. In the thick of graduation, moving back home, and starting a job, I didn’t have time for any reflection or contemplation about how I felt. On top of that, this blog reminded me too much of Kenyon, and it was difficult to return without stories about my special road or the local squirrels.

But here I am, back home in Colorado.

These months have been filled with the ups and downs of transitions, goodbyes, and reunions. I had a chance to see my lovely friends Stella and Chloe while they were in town in Denver, as well as many chances to connect with old friends who are living here full time. Kevin also moved here, found an apartment, and we are both navigating “adulthood.” (As a side note: I always thought that “adulthood” would happen some day like getting a new haircut or buying your own toilet paper, it turns out that most adults are still figuring out whether or not “adulthood” has happened.)

But the days here are still full of little moments and celebrations. I have a special rose bush nearby that grows alongside the road by the Waldorf preschool / kindergarten I attended, and for the past several years I’ve dropped by to pay the bush a little visit. It’s called a Harrison’s Yellow rose and is a truly “western” flower planted by pioneers alongside wagon trails as they made their way west. It bloomed in early June, and the blossoms are old fashioned and golden yellow. The scent is spicy, like anise and dust and sweet pines.



In June, We celebrated midsummer with candles and flowers on the table, and milk stouts all around. I wanted to have a bigger midsummer party and celebration, but unfortunately things didn’t quite work out this year… a goal to aspire to next summer.

Midsummer’s Eve table

On the Fourth of July my mom and I picked the seven cherries that were actually ripe on our cherry tree, and went out for tacos and margaritas with Kevin for dinner. We were able to see fireworks (twice!) with some dear family friends, but it was so windy that as each rocket exploded the sparkling colors would drift to the left behind some darkened tree tops. We came home for our traditional black cows and played cards until we were delirious and too tired from such a long day of fun.

driving to Boulder (for the hike pictured above)

Now, as the days are growing shorter the light is changing already. Though the days aren’t close to autumn gold, there’s still a faded look to the late afternoon sun, and the cicada chorus at night is absolutely deafening. The other night I lit some candles and sat outside on the porch watching bats and listening to the cicadas screeching in the trees around me. The heat and depth of summer is at its fullest, and I’m ready for the last month or so of true heat before we begin to spin into fall.

I’ve been trying to meditate more, and to let go of worries about things I can’t control. This is incredibly difficult, but hopefully with more and more practice, it will get easier. My dear friend Aislinn sent me a magnet that says “when you get to the end of your rope, tie a knot on and swing!” I’ve been thinking a lot about how to swing. Speaking of quotes, I also read a great quote at my favorite coffee shop in Denver: “worry does not empty tomorrow of its sorrow, it empties today of its strength” – Corrie Ten Boom

Wishing all a peaceful week ahead.


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