Christmas 2022

Christmas 2022 was very quiet for us. The kids are scattered to the wind in Colorado Springs, Winston-Salem, and Philly, eliminating any chance of seeing them. My siblings and father, our only remaining parent, are in Alabama and my father was in the hospital, barely coherent since Thanksgiving and just barely hanging on. Ann, as an only child, doesn't have any other family.

Even though it was just the two of us, for once we were both at home simultaneously and not rushing around tending to an ill parent or in the process of moving as we were last year, our house sold out from under us less than two weeks before Christmas. This would be our first Christmas in our new home in Bend.

For Christmas Day, we received an invitation to visit with friends for dinner at their place, but sadly they got sick and had to cancel. While we are just fine on our own, Christmas is a time to celebrate with friends and family. Our Christmas ended up being mostly just another day, pretty anticlimactic all in all.

A bright spot was our Christmas tree, something we did not get last year in the middle of moving, and as pretty a fir as I have ever seen. We have just learned that for $5, you can cut your own tree off a National Forest and we thought to do that, but deep snow and lack of planning sent us looking for a pre-cut tree.

Next year in late summer and early fall, we will scope a couple options for stands of trees to cut that have relatively easy ingress and egress. Right now, I know where a bunch of decent trees are, but getting to the trees and getting back to the truck would be very tough.

Our Gorgeous 8' Fir

Because of our invite for Christmas Dinner, we moved our fancy dinner to Christmas Eve, a full pork rack, frenched and herb-crusted, accompanied by creamed leek scalloped potatoes.

Herb-Crusted Rack of Pork, Creamed Leek Scalloped Potatoes
Savigny-lès-Beaune Premier Cru Burgundy

While prepping, we opened a bottle of Jeeper Champagne, a house that I don't know. I bought it on spec, hoping for the best. Truth be told, it was a delightful blend with both red fruit and Chardonnay characteristics and a great buy for the price. I was impressed by this blend from parcels all over the Champagne.

With our pork roast, we opened a bourgogne rouge, a 2017 Chanson Savigny-Dominode. La Dominode is arguably the best cru of Savigny and Savigny is in my experience one of the best values in the Côte de Beaune. The combination of depth of fresh fruit against lively acidity («tension» diraient les français), coupled with tobacco aromatics and precise tannins was delightful. This is the best Pinot we have had in a long time, and having worked in the Willamette wine industry with and around some excellent Pinots, that is saying something.

Champagne, de Rigueur for a Celebration

As for our roast, although I prefer to do my own butchery, I don't have the space or refrigeration to do so like at my restaurant where we practiced whole animal butchery as a matter of course. That leaves me buying cuts at retail. The standards practiced for the retail trade would have engendered my wrath had they happened in my restaurant. A case in point: the photo below shows the shoddy work that passes for a frenched rack of pork. I spent 15 minutes cleaning up the rack such that it was suitable for presentation.

A So-Called Frenched Rack of Pork

What a Frenched Rack Should Look Like

The Herb-Crusted Rack, Resting Before Service

There are, I suppose, lots of ways to herb crust a rack. At the restaurant, we mostly crusted racks of lamb and for elegant tastings, racks of rabbit. This would involve mixing smooth Dijon mustard with herbs and seasonings appropriate for the meat and slathering that on the rack, before coating it in panko, the mustard mixture helping the panko to adhere. The leftover flavored mustard would be used at the last moment to thicken a pan sauce for the rack.

I wasn't terribly keen on a mustardy flavor for the rack of pork, mainly because I did not want to detract from either the accompanying potato dish or the red Burgundy. To that end, I mixed a scant couple of tablespoons of Dijon mustard with a good quantity of mayonnaise and added finely minced fresh rosemary, thyme, and Italian parsley. This I slathered on the top side and ends of the rack, then sprinkled it with salt and pepper. Finally, I pressed on a thin layer of panko and put the rack into the fridge for a couple of hours so that the crust could set up.

Two hours and a half hours before we wanted to eat, I heated olive oil on medium flame in a roasting pan on the stovetop and left the rack in the pan, crust side down, until it browned all over, about ten minutes. Flipping the rack over, I put it in a moderately slow oven (325F) and cooked it about 90 minutes, until the thermometer read 150F in the big end. The rack would rest for 30-45 minutes while the potatoes were finishing.

Ann wanted scalloped potatoes and I wanted creamed leeks, so I combined the two, sweating leeks in butter, then adding a touch of flour and building a nice leek béchamel with some half-and-half. I sliced the potatoes thinly and mixed in the béchamel. These went into the oven, covered, for the final 45 minutes that the pork was cooking.

Potatoes Ready for the Oven

When the pork came out of the oven, I removed the cover from the potatoes and cranked the heat to 400F and continued cooking the potatoes until they became brown on top.

Creamed Leek Scalloped Potatoes

Our Christmas Eve dinner was exceptionally good as was the amazingly beautiful bottle of Burgundy. The only thing missing was somebody to share it with.

Five Degrees Along the Deschutes River Trail

I've been going stir-crazy being cooped up in the house for a few blustery, snowy days and missing my exercise. I finally decided come hell or high water that I was going to take a walk along the Deschutes River, my usual roughly 6-mile loop.

The only issue really was that the ambient temperature was the coldest it has been this winter, the thermometer standing at 5F. That, coupled with a gentle 5 mph northerly breeze brought the wind chill to about -5F.

I bundled up in two layers on the bottom, four layers on the top, gloves, and beanie, shoved my microspikes into the pocket of my shell, and headed out the back door. Three steps onto the alley had me returning to the back stairs to don the microspikes, it being too icy to walk without traction devices. As an aside, if Kahtoola ever needs a shill for their spikes, I'm the guy. These things are lifesavers and far superior to anything else on the market.

I was cold for the first half hour, but not terribly so, on the downstream leg of my walk into the gentle but noticeable northerly breeze. It spit snow constantly for the duration of my walk, but never enough to put my hood up. I always like to start my walks cold because as I get going, I start generating heat and I don't really like to stop for layer breaks, especially when it is frigid. [Ann's trail name: Layer Break. Go figure.]

In any case, even at a wind chill of -5F, it was positively balmy when compared to our recent foray to the top of Pike's Peak in 40 mph winds. By the halfway point when I turned around and headed south back upstream with the breeze at my back, I had warmed up sufficiently to unzip my shell and down vest enough to get to my phone, and enough to remove one of my gloves so that I could work the phone to take pictures. I should have brought my big camera: the scenery was stunningly beautiful.

I had the delightful walk along the river practically to myself. All day, I saw six other walkers and one runner, all shod in spikes for traction on the terribly icy trail. I want to say that because of the solitude it was super quiet as well, but the constant crunching of my spikes in the ice made it difficult to hear subtle sounds and made it sound to my ears like I was marching with an army.

The not-so-subtle calls of some birds got through just fine, however, and I was surprised at the number of birds I saw. While the Ospreys have gone south for the winter, Bald Eagles have replaced them along this stretch of the river and I saw one several times, maybe the same bird. One was perched atop a Ponderosa Pine watching me as I photographed the snag where the ospreys nest each spring.

Though I saw no Steller's Jays, the usual jays along this part of the river, I did see and hear several raucous California Scrub Jays. Notably silent however, for a very vocal bird, was a large female Belted Kingfisher flying directly down the canyon, ten feet off the water. Ravens added to the ambient noise with their nasally harsh squawks.

Smaller birds were pretty much in hiding, but I did see Pygmy Nuthatches and Oregon Juncos. I heard but did not see Mountain Chickadees and Cedar Waxwings. The waxwings were no doubt competing with the vocal American Robins for any leftover fruit that they could scavenge.

On the water, I saw some old winter friends from back East, a group of about 8 Ring-billed Gulls standing about a rock in the middle of the river. They are a common winter visitor inland, but I had not expected to see them here in Central Oregon.

In the river swam a few Common Goldeneyes, Hooded Mergansers, Common Mergansers, Mallards, and in a bit of a surprise, a flock of Canada Geese. The geese usually stay in the calm, shallow waters north of the Reed Market Bridge, but as that stretch of river is currently frozen over, they have pushed south of the bridge into the open water just below the last set of rapids below the canyon.

All in all, a great walk by the river on a spectacularly beautiful, if chilly, day.

Ponderosa Pine Needles

Riverside Alder and Western Juniper

Still Life with Ponderosa Pines

Douglas' Squirrel Trying to Stay Warm

Ring-Billed Gulls (center) on a Rock

Ponderosa Pines Looking Like Cinnamon Sticks

Osprey Nest in Ponderosa Snag

Lodgepole Pine in Snow

Green-Leaf Manzanita, a Little Color on a Gray Day

It Rarely Gets This Cold

Colorado Springs: Thanksgiving 2022

Carter has been stationed at Ft. Carson on the south side of Colorado Springs for a year or so now. Ann and I have been looking for an excuse to make the two-day drive from Oregon to visit with him and his new wife Emma to see their new townhouse and meet our new grand dog, Grace.

Carter, Ann, and Emma

Now that we have just finished the build-out of our new kitchen in our new house, a project that kept us anchored in Bend for the past six months, it seemed like now might be our best opportunity to visit. The real crapshoot in driving to Colorado this time of the year is winter weather in the Cascades, Intermountain West, and Rockies. Opportunities for car travel through the high passes are severely limited from November to April. In a stroke of luck, the long-range forecast seemed to offer a decent chance of passable, if not entirely snow-free, weather.

Moreover, we have just found out that Carter's brigade is being rotated to Korea in the first half of 2023, exactly when is obscure for operational security. With passable weather in the forecast and Carter's residence in the US coming to an end for the better part of a year, the trip to the Springs was basically now or never. More importantly, the timing meant that we could have a family visit for Thanksgiving rather than cooking the same old meal at home.

Grand Dog Grace

When we pitched the idea, the kids seemed pretty gung-ho and as neither has cooked for Thanksgiving before, seemed to be psyched about having us assist or at least offer moral support. And we were excited to help them pull the meal off while letting them put on their own show in their own house. We wanted to be the proud parents watching the kids grow up and take the reins for Thanksgiving in a reversal of our heretofore traditional roles.

From Bend to Colorado Springs

On Wednesday the 16th, 8 days out from Thanksgiving, I made a pork terrine with pistachios and dried cherries, Carter's request to me for Thanksgiving Dinner. Unfortunately, Ann and I would never get to taste it. I also made sandwiches for us to take on the road, which I subsequently left in our refrigerator in our haste to get out the door. Doh!

While the terrine was in the oven, I started packing the car for the long trip to Colorado Springs. We really didn't know what kind of weather to expect and the forecasts along the way were a mixed bag from sun to snow, single digits to fifties. So we packed for worst-case weather and the possibility of having to wait out a snowstorm in the car.

The next morning, we tried to get an early start on the two-day drive, but events conspired against us. As soon as we pulled the car out of the garage, it was apparent that the freshly changed oil was leaking onto the floor. After getting gas, we stopped into the quick-change garage where they replaced the leaking oil filter. We finally got moving at 8:45 to find that the roads were slicker than hell from overnight flurries and subsequent freezing fog that made it appear if someone had airbrushed everything with silver paint.

The first couple of hours out of Bend east to Burns required super-attentive driving; the foggy desert landscape was punctuated at regular intervals by pairs of ravens. We stopped in Burns to buy supplies to replace the sandwiches that I forgot to bring along. North of Burns, the ravens gave way to small groups of magpies as we followed the Malheur River on our way into onion and potato country in Ontario, home to a big Ore-Ida plant. A great memory is driving north along the river canyon and seeing not only a herd of 20-30 mule deer below us, but a Bald Eagle winging alongside us at eye level.

Idaho is all interstate driving southeast along the Snake River and we made good time through the southern tier of that state, hitting Utah about dark. We chose Ogden as our stop for the night and I booked a room downtown before taking the final shift driving to the hotel.

Serious construction on I-84 in northern Utah has reduced the highway to a single lane with barrels blocking off one of the lanes. These particular barrels were really beat and filthy to the point where they were barely reflective in the dark. At random times, I had to veer sharply around a barrel that had been knocked into the travel lane. And at other points, the construction crews decided to switch travel lanes seemingly without warning. It was truly a white-knuckle game of highway Frogger, driving where the nearly invisible barrels were not, making crazy lane shifts in the dark without warning.

I was totally frazzled after this experience and happy to arrive safely in downtown Ogden. After taking our luggage to our room, we walked a couple blocks to a nearby brewpub and had absolutely forgettable beer and food.

Friday morning would see us on the road at 8:45, an hour later than we wanted, the result of the time change to Mountain Time. I noted when I gassed up in Ogden that it was cold, really cold. A few miles down the road, now in Wyoming and on I-80, I checked the temperature and found it was in the single digits everywhere. Laramie, across the Rockies and where we would leave I-80 and turn south into Colorado, got down to -12 the evening before.

Temperature When I Stopped
to Wash the Windshield Barehanded

In fact, it was so cold that our windshield washer fluid had frozen overnight and that was not a good situation what with all the slush on the roadway from overnight snow. The highway was a bit snowy, but the going was not all that bad. Interstate 80 has a reputation as a real bitch in the winter, but happily for us, we got off easy. At one point, we were forced to pull off the highway so that I could wash the windshield using washer fluid and paper towels from the car. At 8F, my bare hands were loving life while Ann was inside scoring some hot coffee for us! I was happy to wrap my hands around the steaming cup.

By afternoon, the day was sunny and cold, if gusty, and the travel lanes (but not the shoulders) on the highway were clear. We found ourselves on the notorious I-80 traversing southern Wyoming, one of the few passenger cars in a sea of semis. I would estimate that the highway carried 20 semis for every car or passenger truck. My hat is really off to these truck drivers who brave the winter weather conditions to get goods where they need to be. While the highway might be treacherous in the winter, it was gloriously beautiful winding through the mountains.

Interstate 25 from Fort Collins to just north of Denver is a fustercluck of construction and that coupled with Friday afternoon rush hour traffic made the drive along the Front Range a bit tense. We arrived in the Springs after dark.

Weekend in Colorado Springs

In cahoots with Emma who wanted to surprise Carter, we told him that we would be arriving Monday night of Thanksgiving week. In reality, we left Bend on the prior Thursday with plans to arrive on Friday night and surprise him at brunch on Saturday morning. As we were arriving after dark on Friday, Emma begged us to come straight to their house to surprise him. And he was well and truly surprised! Carter drove us downtown for greasy pizza and beer before we went to our B&B, about ten minutes away, for the evening.

Saturday Morning, Walking Down our Street

Saturday morning, we left the B&B for coffee downtown dressed for the weather that we had just been through. The temperature in Colorado Springs, however, was in the low 30s and we found ourselves roasting, way overdressed. We had excellent coffee and a bagel at Switchback Coffee Roasters before heading over to Carter and Emma's on the south side of town. 

Mid-afternoon, they wanted to go to the Oskar Blues pub downtown. I haven't been to Oskar Blues since visiting the original brewery in Lyons decades ago. The kids ate lunch, but Ann and I were not on their same schedule after a mid-morning bagel. After lunch, we headed back to their house where Ann and I would take care of dog Grace while Carter and Emma drove into Denver to attend a show. After they departed for Denver, we played with the dog, snacked a little leftover cheese and salami from the cooler in our car for dinner, and after a final dog walk, returned to the B&B for an early night.

Sunday morning, we reprised our leisurely coffee at Switchback, then returned to our B&B to await the kids, who did not get home from Denver until half past three in the morning. While they slept, we waited and lounged, not how we imagined we might be spending our time in Colorado Springs. Finally, we got together and went downtown for a late lunch of not terribly good ramen at the shop where Emma works. After enduring an awkward stint at Carter and Emma's, Ann and I needed some space and alone time away from the kids. We left to grab a quick dinner by ourselves at Old Colorado City Brewing before going back to the B&B.

Over the weekend, it became clear that neither Carter nor Emma had made any plans for a Thanksgiving meal. No matter how much we mentioned it, we seemed to get nowhere, so we dropped the subject. This was quickly turning out to be anything but the vacation that we had envisaged, a happy reunion and a shared celebratory meal, not to discount the chance to meet Carter and Emma's friends at a Friendsgiving on the Friday after Thanksgiving. Ann and I were feeling very awkward and confused about the situation.

In fact, it reminded me of the final time that I lived in my parents' home during the summer after my first year of college. We, my parents and I, led very different lives, with different priorities, and different ideas of what our roles were. I could not wait and I am sure that they could not wait until I departed for school again in August, never to live under their roof again.

Even though the circumstances were reversed in this case, the parents visiting the kids rather than vice versa and even though we were staying in our own place rather than theirs, the feeling was not dissimilar to my last summer with my parents. Ann and I were feeling ready to be gone, but we talked ourselves into staying for Thanksgiving. 

Thanksgiving Week in Colorado Springs

Carter had asked to be off the week of Thanksgiving, but his request was too late. He had to settle for the normal Thursday-Sunday 4-day weekend like most of the other soldiers in his unit. This was really fine with us; we expected both of them to be working during the week. We were content enough with seeing them on Saturday and Sunday and then again on Thursday and Friday before our departure on Saturday. During the week, Ann and I had planned to do some hiking (or snowshoeing, depending on the weather) and other activities around Colorado Springs. 

On Monday at noon, in the World Cup, the US would play their first match against Wales. On our visit to Oskar Blues, we learned that they would be showing the game, so we planned to watch it there. Before the noon start, we decided to make an early morning drive over to the stunning Garden of the Gods park near our B&B in west Colorado Springs. We had a wonderful walk before heading downtown. The match ended in a draw, not the expected outcome for the favored Americans. After the game, Ann and I felt like we needed more space from the kids, so we went back to the B&B to watch a movie before turning in early.

Watching the World Cup at Oskar Blues

Tuesday we had no firm plans, so we tried a different coffee house with a nice atmosphere but pretty lame coffee and food, despite positive reviews. During breakfast, we found something unique to visit: Florissant Fossil Beds National Monument. After our walk at Florissant, we returned to town to find lunch and a beer, then joined Carter and Emma at their request at another brewpub after Carter got off work. We ended up eating so-so food and drinking a lame beer apiece.

Wednesday we had planned to head west of town again, this time to take the cog railway to the top of Pike's Peak on one of the very first trains of the day, timed to avoid the crush of visitors at the top. The hour and ten minute ride was relaxing and offered a great way to see the scenery. I have only been colder once in my life than I was at the top with low temperatures and a howling gale of wind.

After our return to Colorado Springs, we let the kids talk us into going out to a bar, not something we were all that keen on, on the number one party night of the year for college kids. They're all off for Thanksgiving and packing the bars. That said, we went to a really cool industrial mixed-use restaurant, bar, and entertainment space called C.O.A.T.I. I wish we were in a better frame of mind to enjoy it.

The next day being Thanksgiving and the kids having zero plan, Ann and I had decided that we would just grab a bite at whatever place was open. Just before we were ready to leave the bar for our B&B at about 9:30pm, Carter dropped a bomb on us, asking, "Aren't you cooking for Thanksgiving?"

I was stunned and of a mind to spew venom, but after slamming my beer, I headed for the restroom to calm myself. When I returned, Ann and I huddled and decided that we would try to make the best of the situation. We would try to find a grocery store that was open late on the night before Thanksgiving and piece together a simple Thanksgiving meal. She and I were so angry and upset that we fought all the way to the grocery store, arriving at 9:45pm, just 15 minutes before they closed for the holiday. Needless to say, many things we wanted were out of stock.

After purchasing what we could to put together a Thanksgiving-flavored pasta (using chicken instead of sold-out turkey, green onions instead of sold-out leeks, and dried sage instead of sold-out fresh herbs), we headed back to our B&B. I don't know who voiced it first, but we quickly decided that we were leaving for home first thing on Friday, Friendsgiving or no Friendsgiving.

Thanksgiving Day 2022

Thanksgiving was a somber experience for us. Ann and I were angry, tired, stressed out, and longing for home. The kids did not stop partying until after three in the morning, so they were not even functional enough to return our texts until early afternoon. Ann and I went over mid-afternoon with the plan to make an early dinner and get the hell out.

Dispiritedly, I made a pretty awesome rigatoni with roasted chicken and sage sausage that tasted like Thanksgiving (incidentally, it was the best food we would have during out stay in Colorado Springs), but my heart wasn't in it. As soon as dinner was done, I told the kids we were leaving at first light for home. They protested a little, but not terribly.

Tired, angry, hurt, and not very full of joy as we are usually at Thanksgiving, we returned to the B&B to get to sleep for an early departure. I was so out of sorts that I didn't even remember to take a single picture at Thanksgiving and I regret that.

Return to Bend

At 5:30 the next morning, we found ourselves awake and decided just to get up and go. By 5:45 we were on the road north along the Front Range, headed for home. Even before we left Colorado Springs, I think we both decided to jam the 17-1/2 hours to Bend without stopping for the night.

While we used the predicted bad Thanksgiving weekend collision of two snow-bearing frontal systems in the Pacific Northwest as our excuse to leave Colorado Springs early, it proved to be a beautiful day. We got to see both a delightful sunrise and an award-winning sunset. I found it particularly beautiful to have the sun rising and shining directly on the horseshoe-shaped Mile High Stadium in downtown Denver as we passed on the highway. I've never seen this iteration of the stadium in person; my days of staying in Boulder and calling on customers along the Front Range predate both the stadium and the new DIA airport. I flew in and out of Stapleton many, many times.

The drive back home was a good opportunity to see wildlife. In northern Colorado just shy of the Wyoming border, we saw a fairly decent herd of bighorns, perhaps 40 or 50 in number. Each of us, when we were not driving, spied a Bald Eagle sitting on a fencepost in the mountains, far from obvious sources of water, overlooking the highway. It's really gratifying to see that Bald Eagles have recovered in numbers sufficient that they are repopulating areas away from water. The Golden Eagles, Red Tailed Hawks, and Ferruginous Hawks may feel differently.

I had figured we might see a good many Pronghorns along I-80 in the southern tier of Wyoming, but I only saw one small group of 8-10. A large herd of elk, perhaps 100 in number in three separate groups, made up for that in northern Utah just below the Idaho border. Just over the Idaho border, we saw a Ferruginous Hawk on a fencepost along the highway; this is a huge hawk of the plains that we just never encounter. Finally, after dark, just shy of Bend in the middle of the desert, we almost collided with a Great Horned Owl that was flying across the highway.

Stunning Sunset Near Mountain Home, ID

We had concerns about a weather system moving in after dark, but once we reached Boise, we couldn't see a thing. Fortunately, we only ran into a few snow squalls as we entered Bend. The timing of the storm had it arrive in Bend on Sunday into Monday. Our decision to leave early and make a go of it in one day was a sound one. I would not have wanted to hit the Stinkingwater Mountains in Harney County on US 20 in the middle of a snowstorm as our original itinerary would have had us doing.

Finally after 17-1/2 hours on the road, with me jamming white-knuckled from Boise to Bend along the curvy and hairy US-20, we arrived back at home. As we walked in the back door, we were both surprised to walk into our brand new kitchen. I know that in my mind, I was picturing our old kitchen. In any case, it was good to be home and off the now slick road, awaiting the arrival of the snowstorm on Sunday.

Colorado Springs: Garden of the Gods

The people of Colorado Springs are so lucky to have a world-class park, Garden of the Gods, right in town. It is on everyone's must-see list for very good reason: if you have time in the Springs to do nothing else, a visit to Garden of the Gods should be the one thing that you do.

After spending most of Saturday and Sunday with Carter and Emma, we planned to make an early Monday morning trip to see Garden of the Gods before heading downtown to watch the opening World Cup match for the US team, a 1-1 draw against Wales and a disappointing finish for the young American team.

Because 30th Street, the main drag to the park, is closed for repairs, we ended up detouring in from above on Mesa Road and that was a lucky thing in that it afforded us beautiful views of the entire park from above, with the golden early morning light reflecting back at us off the rock formations and Pikes Peak towering above everything.

Once down in the park, we parked at the not-yet-open-for-the-day Visitor Center and walked under 30th Street towards the center of the park. The first thing I saw was a bird that you don't see every day, a shrike. I didn't have binoculars with me, but from the photo, I want to say that this is an overwintering Northern Shrike.

A Shrike, Perhaps a Northern Shrike

The Park Mascot, One of Many Black-Billed Magpies

Townsend's Solitaire in a Juniper

Pike's Peak

Scrub Jays are extremely common in the west. In fact, I'm watching and listening to one of our noisy pair in the spruce at arm's length outside my window as I type. It is shrieking away hiding in the branches staying out of the snowstorm that is currently raging. When I was a kid, I learned that there was a single species called a Scrub Jay (and my bird book still says that). Rarely, it was called a Western Scrub Jay to differentiate it from the population in Florida, now called the Florida Scrub Jay. Although I know our local scrubbers are officially called California Scrub Jays, I had not realized that the inter-mountain population is now considered a different species called Woodhouse's Scrub Jay. Live and learn.

Woodhouse's Scrub-Jay in a Piñon

In another change of nomenclature, I have just discovered that the bird I knew as a Rock Dove is now called a Rock Pigeon. I'm pretty sure that I have mentioned before on this blog that while large flocks of pigeons are nuisances in urban situations, that seeing them in their natural habitat among the rocks and high places is pretty special.

Rock Pigeons High Up in the Rock Formations

Iridescent Male Rock Pigeon

Annie at the Base of a Large Red Rock

Tree Growing out of Seemingly Pure Rock

I'm a kid of the East and each fall that I lived back there, we eagerly anticipated the arrival of the Dark-Eyed Juncos. We had the migratory form called the Slate-Colored Junco, the males resplendent in their crisp black, white, and slate gray plumage, a most handsome bird and one that was only with us in the winter. We always heard that out west they had a resident form called the Oregon Junco which had different plumage, notably less slate on the head with chestnut sides thrown in for good measure. In my twenties, I finally got to see one of these strangely colored juncos at Red Rocks Amphitheater west of Denver. Back then, the amphitheater was a good bit west of town; now I suppose it is likely engulfed by civilization.

Little did I know then that when we moved to the West Coast in McMinnville in 2017, we would have scads of Oregon Juncos, including multiple pairs nesting in our yard, bringing their babies through our flowerbeds scavenging plant seeds. Now that we have moved east of the Cascades, juncos are not super common and it is notable when we do see one, so it was great to see the little fellow in the photo below at Garden of the Gods, just a few miles south of where I saw my first one ever. But I still miss the eastern Slate-Colored Juncos.

Male Dark-Eyed "Oregon" Junco

Beautiful Plant, But Unknown to Me

Since moving to the desert in 2021, I cannot remember seeing a yucca in our sagebrush scrublands, whereas they were somewhat common back East. Yuccas are native to Virginia and the southeast from whence we came and there the form is Y. filamentosa which really does not look anything like the yuccas we saw at Garden of the Gods. Seemingly in every direction that we looked, we would see large stands of Y. glauca, a handsome plant in the arid landscape, with much finer and many more leaves than Y. filamentosa.

Ubiquitous Yucca glauca

Annie Taking Advantage of Shade

Lots of Mats of Tiny (3" High) Prickly Pears

Buck Grazing in the Morning Sun

Close-Up of a Piñon Cone, Pinus edulis

When we arrived at Garden of the Gods around 8:30 in the morning, the sun was just getting up and few people had arrived. More and more and more people kept arriving as we walked through the central part with its amazing rock formations. We started getting more and more claustrophobic as more and more families with noisy packs of kids obliterated the early morning quiet, so we pushed south into the less visited parts of the park and walked several miles in relative quiet, before returning to our car to go see the World Cup game downtown.

Garden of the Gods is a spectacular gift to the city of Colorado Springs. It would take many days to explore it all and it's a shame that we didn't have time but to scratch the surface.