From the artist’s archives, probably circa 1982 or 1983.
Undoubtedly drawn with pointy Crayola crayons and a razor-sharp pencil on white construction paper. My favorites.
Thanks Mom and Ryan for finding it, scanning it and emailing it to me!
And So, Mud Season Begins
The ski resort closed for the season on Sunday, and won’t be open for summer until June 1. What happens in between? Mud season. Though not as muddy as I envisioned it to be, it is certainly not as cozy as a Winter Park winter or as bright green as an East Coast spring. Right now flowers are blooming in PA, but here we’re just starting to see blades of grass turn from yellow to green. I saw my first American Robin two weeks ago, and ever since there has been a noticeable influx of neverbeforeseen birds. Birds that visited my home in PA in winter are coming here in spring, like the Dark-Eyed Juncos. And who knew they had such a sprightly spring voice! In winter back east, their most elaborate song was a faint, “peep.” I have spotted Magpies and Crows fly by with beaks full of dead grasses and other nesting materials. And Mountain Bluebirds! So completely blue they mock the sky.
All these promises of spring, and then last night a snowstorm blew in. An inch was expected. So far we’ve received six. And just like that, the landscape sings winter. And I can’t ski it! It will most likely melt by the weekend. Exactly when we’re planning to ski at Arapahoe Basin, which stays open as late as July. But that’s hours away, and my mountain is here–albeit inaccessible. Spring is a difficult time to maintain a love affair with snow.
