It rained all night and it rained all morning. But at the drop of a hat, the rain turned to snow and everything became white. A snowy day for making snowwomen, assembling lego, hot cocoa, a walk to the neighborhood store, a fire and watching flakes fall from the sky.
I’m not sure the reason for my attraction to the Stock Show. Perhaps because its one of few places that remain of what I remember as ‘Old Denver’. My feelings remain from previous visits. I love all of it: grit, dirt, stink, textures, noise, the people, and its carnival nature. Another realization to my attraction to it is the ability to capture photographs without anyone giving a rip about me. One of the few places where I feel like anyone can get a behind the scenes look if they desire. No credential required. Look forward to being back next year.
Commemorating and archiving my 42nd birthday with a traditional family road trip to have our tintype portrait taken. It felt fitting to commemorate this point in time via such a photographic method. A lens over a hundred years old created our image via a process just as old if not older. The end result an image existing in the physical world which in theory can exist for hundreds of years beyond this point in time.
New and old experiences on one of Summer’s final Saturdays. Visual textures and seasonal tastes found and relished at Ya Ya Farm and Orchard. The St. Vrain provided moments of respite from the soon to be retreating seasonal heat. And a drive through the farms and fields with a pit stop at Fritz Family Brewers ended our day.
The cycle’s of life seemingly revolve faster and faster. Some years for a few fleeting moments we’re gifted with a couple of days where our home’s facade is obscured by a wash of pink complemented by a sweet aroma filling the air. Within a few more moments the wash of pink will give way to a field of green only to be replaced by oranges and browns. We do our best to enjoy these seasonal gifts.
Tending to the changes of the season in the early evening of a Spring day.
A long weekend away from the march of daily life. The moments of peace and quiet relished. The pace of the days considerably different when not dictated by the energy of a three year old.
Spent my 41st birthday in Trinidad, Colorado. A new to me place in the state. The wind was relentless and a constant companion to our visit. The town a trove of obscured details, textures and other visual interests. Within the same moment it could feel warm and welcoming yet cold and foreign. The weathered and dusty hues of blues, oranges, yellows and browns that followed us all weekend furthered this feeling while signaling the eminent forthcoming embrace of winter.
A trip of firsts. My first time visiting Seattle. Our first time on an airplane since the pandemic. My daughter's first time on an airplane period. More importantly for her: first oysters, ferryrides, and glimpses of the coast. All things we'd anticipated happening years ago. In the end, our time further West was a learning experience figuring out how to navigate travel outside of a roadtrip as three not two. A continual coming to terms that what once was will never be again. Constantly being reminded to slow our pace.
