We're Still Standing

Fire. An unfortunate and frightening part of summer in the western mountains of the U.S. Last summer Waldo Canyon shook El Paso and Teller Counties to their very cores. This summer, the Black Forest was devastated and no longer resembles what all of us knew and will forever think of when anyone mentions the forest. The Royal Gorge Park and lands close to Canon City are torched as well. The town of South Fork is fighting now for its very existence against a fire in the San Juan Mountains (home of my mystery novels). The East Peak Fire is out of control close to LaVeta and Walsenburg. Several others burn in Fremont and Jefferson counties.

My husband and I have made two trips into Canon City this week. One strictly on business, the second, for their Whitewater Festival on the Riverwalk.

Yesterday's visit was a blast and I am proud to say the people of Fremont County are ready to buck up, repair and get things back to status quo...or better. Though the temperatures were hot (and I am probably a wimp since my hubby and I live at an elevation of more than 8000 feet above sea level and its always nice here in the summers), I was thrilled to see the townsfolk milling about, rafting on the river, drinking soft drinks, lemonade, beer....anything ice cold, and enjoying a coming together of sorts.

While we were there, the Royal Gorge train pulled out from the station, fully loaded with tourists ready to ride through the gorge, no doubt curious to see what the fire had done, but riding nonetheless. It did my heart good to see the train full and traveling down the tracks that follow the Arkansas River.

Next, we went to the Holy Cross Winery and wandered the grounds for a few minutes. We didn't stay long because there was a huge wedding party there and we didn't want to interfere with their happy day. Seeing the place lively and happy, full of people and the staff eager and willing to assist was heartwarming. To see this community come together was touching in a way I haven't felt in a very long time.

We later went to the Country Kitchen up on Highway 50 at the turn off to the Royal Gorge. The gorge sign say, "Bridge Closed. We will reopen." The restaurant was open, but sadly, we were the only customers. We had veggie burgers and homemade potato chips (AWESOME!) and lively conversation with some of the wait staff. Business in slow in the burn areas. They want you to know they, as well as all the businesses on Hwy. 50 around the gorge, are open and ready to serve. Canon City is open for business.

Colorado Springs is open for business. Colorado is open for business. Despite the fires, there is much to see and do. Visit, hike, swim, fish, raft, boat, visit the casinos of Black Hawk, Central City and Cripple Creek....do it all and then report to all your friends and relatives that Colorado is alive and well, still breathtaking in its beauty.

I have no idea who this is but I pestered him for a picture at Centennial Park. Hot, sweaty but having a great time.

Pond at Centennial Park with lots of kids of boards having a party.

Runners had to go through this mud pit as part of their course.

Barn at Holy Cross Winery, Canon City

The Abbey, Holy Cross

More Pictures of the Black Forest and Royal Gorge Fires

Thanks to Denver Channel 4 for this photo of Black Forest

The firefights don't stop...no matter what!

I apologize for the sporadic look of this page. I wanted to share more of what is going on here. We heard this morning via the media and the sheriff's department in El Paso County that over 360 homes have been destroyed and more than 15000 acres have been burned. The Black Forest fire has now surpassed the Waldo Canyon Fire of 2012 in terms of homes lost. Our prayers are with all our friends, their friends and families and the people of Southern Colorado. 

Amazing shot of American flag while house burns

Chinook flies over fire dropping retardant

Night shot of fire Black Forest

House burns in the Black Forest

The morning after...

Retardant being dropped over Black Forest Wednesday

Horses being led to safety

One of the 360 homes lost so far, Black Forest

View of Royal Gorge Fire

animals standing in Arkansas River, Royal Gorge Fire

Royal Gorge Bridge early stages of fire.

C130s over Royal Gorge

Photo first day of Royal Gorge Fire

Very surreal

Sunset at Royal Gorge Fire

The Black Forest and Royal Gorge Fires

Welcome to fire season in Colorado!
 
What? Fire season, you say?

Yep...that 's what I said. We have an entire season set aside just for fires. But never in my 26 years of living here have I seen so many! Last year it was The Springer Fire in Lake George and the Waldo Canyon Fire in Colorado Springs, Ute Pass, Woodland Park, etc.

I was finally able to drive down Ute Pass to Colorado Springs and not be devastated by the burn scars. Residents in the area and crews were beginning to lay out sand bags for possible landslides during the summer downpours we sometimes get when BAM! the fires erupted again. Almost a year to the day from the Waldo Canyon Fire.

First I heard about The Royal Gorge. The Royal Gorge is a huge touristy-type place and hundreds were evacuated when the fire started. Now the highways are closed, an entire prison was evacuated and its "guests" moved to another facility (we're talking hundreds of inmates) and the fire continues to grow.I was devastated. We spend a fair amount of time over there. Canon City is a great place to hang out. The Arkansas River runs there and we love to whitewater raft. The river's closed from the Gorge to Canon City as well.

If that weren't enough, I then turned on the news to get an update only to find out that the Black Forest (North El Paso County, Colorado Springs) is on fire and houses were burning to the ground. This morning over 8000 acres and 100 homes (estimate from the news) have been destroyed. 7000 people have been evacuated. No containment.

It feels just like last summer when we watched as the Waldo Canyon fire came down the Front Range and took out an entire neighborhood in Colorado Springs, burned up the forest on Rampart Range, headed towards Woodland Park and threatened our very existence.

Today the air is thick and I can barely breathe. The plume from the fire is high enough that we can see it over the mountains across the street. We are praying for rain. We've been in drought for many, many years and are desperate for rain. The people of Southern Colorado are kind, caring and pull together in times of crisis. We will survive. We just need rain...and your prayers.

This Week on Obsidian Drive

Some would say that living out in the country would be boring. No bright lights, no movie theaters, no shopping malls...

I say, "Pshaw!"

Living in Teller County Colorado might not be everyone's cup of tea, but I love it. My hubby and I love living above the clouds and awake most days still awed that the Good Lord would have it in his plan to allow us to live in such a beautiful place.

In 1986 I was living in Little Rock, Arkansas. I was attending Agape Church and one weekend in June of that year the church hosted a women's weekend. The keynote speaker asked us to write down on a piece of paper where we wanted to be one year from that date and put it someplace we wouldn't lose it. The speaker was touching on the scripture about God giving us the desires of our heart. I wrote down Colorado never really giving it a second thought. One year later, almost to the day, I moved to Colorado Springs. Talk about an answered prayer.

So much has happened since moving to Teller County. Last summer was the Waldo Canyon and Springer fires. It was a harrowing time with roads closed, evacuations of over 30,000, hundreds of homes lost, 2 lives lost and all we could do was wait it out...and pray.  During the fires I broke my right foot and all the medical facilities were closed to anything that wasn't fire related so I also had to wait that out for a couple of weeks.

Everyday I look out my front window and see the beautiful landscape before me. I see owls, elk, deer, coyotes, foxes, eagles and hear the screeching cry of the mountain lion off in the distance. In the early summer, we enjoy the beautiful simplicity of the columbine, our state flower. Hummingbirds are so curious they fly right up to us then zip away out of sight. Even as I wrote that line, one flew by.

Last summer a bear invited himself in through our bedroom window while we were at church one Sunday  morning during the fires.

A few days ago my cat, Jack, brought me a mole. Not a thing that grows on your skin and sometimes needs to be removed. A creeping, crawling, hairy, humongous mole that he caught somewhere and killed. YIKES! Then he brought me a bird. Then he and his sister, Jill, found a nest of mice under the shed, drug them out and played chase with them.

So is life in the mountains for everyone?  Heck, no! But it sure is for me. I love to hike. I love to visit the hot springs over in Buena Vista or Ouray or Glenwood Springs. I love to walk around the National Fossil Beds just around the corner from home. I also like to get gussied up (a clean shirt and pair of jeans) and head into town for the newest movie.

If you're ever in the neighborhood, honk and wave, slow down and yell, but watch out. Consider yourself warned. You might just like it and have to stay a spell.

"M" is for the Many Things She Gave Me

Tomorrow is Mother's Day. A day celebrated around the world, for there is no other person in the world whose relationship affects us more than the one we have with our maternal units.

Whatever we choose to call her, the role she plays in her children's lives is that of nursemaid, nurturer, educator, mental health professional, cosmetologist, teacher, judge, jury, correctional officer and warden all wrapped into one,  head chef, bottle washer, diaper changer, nanny, referee, physician, seamstress, party planner, coach, ump, encourager...and the list goes on and on.

Our mothers are our mothers, but as I was reminded earlier today from a reading in "Chicken Soup for the Mother's Soul", we seldom know them as the great, great ladies they are. My mom was one such lady. Born Dorthy Mae Carroll, people always misspelled her name thinking surely it was Dorothy, but no, it was Dorthy and many folks called her Dot. That 'Dot' is also another word for period or so be it... or dot, dot, dot...the continuation of a thought. Both are correct in the case of my mom. She was fierce. PERIOD. She was kind. PERIOD. She was a fantastic cook. PERIOD. She had a heart easily pricked. PERIOD. She always heard my side of a story and gave me another chance. Dot, Dot, Dot.

I remember her best sitting at our Kimball spinet piano playing "All God's Children Need Someone to Love". As a child, I thought hearing her play and sing was the best thing since peanut butter (and if you know me well, you know how I love my peanut butter!!). It was from her that I got my love for music. When I began piano lessons in the third grade, I practiced hour after hour and if I sounded anything like my son did when he began taking saxophone lessons, she had to have been grinding her teeth or screaming into a pillow sometimes. All I can say about that is God love her! Because all those lessons led to a life filled with the love and joy of music.  (As a side note, my son actually won his age group at the Denver Jazz Festival when he was in the 10th grade....so all my screaming into pillows and the literal crawling of my skin paid off, too.)

My mom taught Sunday School for as long as I can remember during her time on Planet Earth. Seems to me she taught Adult Women's classes and they always seemed to love her. I recall getting out of bed every morning, early, and getting ready for school only to find her just where she'd been the morning before: at the kitchen table studying her lesson for the following Sunday morning. I never told her, but I was impressed by her stick-to-it-ive-ness, her allegiance to the women she taught, and her love for the Lord of whom she taught.

Mother loved to sew. She made clothes, but the thing I most remember are these 17th Century dolls she used to make. The were hand sewn and the faces hand embroidered with yarn hair she sewed on. The dresses they wore were beautiful and they even had little pantelettes. My niece, Pam, my eldest sister's daughter, named them Toots, because that's what all the grandkids called mother. Pam said they looked like Toots. And they did! And to this day, I think it's safe to say we all have a Toots doll proudly displayed somewhere in our homes. Mine is wearing a dress made from fabric she used for a dress sewed for me in high school. No one is allowed to touch my Toots doll. She's almost 40 years old now and if she's like me has brittle bone disease. She's a prized possession, made with love from my mother...a great, great lady. As a matter of fact, when Mother had the coronary that sent her to the Great Beyond, she was working on a Toots doll for someone who never received it. The fabric and the pattern was neatly laid out on the sewing machine table right where she left it when she fell ill.

So to my mother, now in the arms of Jesus, I say, "Mother, you are a great, great lady and I am thankful you were my maternal unit on Planet Earth.

Message to the Pamelonians

I must issue a disclaimer here. The title 'Message to the Pamelonians' is actually taken from my niece Pam's husband's updates on Pam's breast cancer battle and sojourn through the world of chemo, radiation , and surgery.  Pam is still taking chemo, but has not been able to receive it the past two weeks because of lower numbers in her blood work. My sister, her mom, tells me she can see the disappointment in her eyes and demeanor when things don't go as planned, but Pam is a go-getter and has done her research and is taking her vitamins and eating right and kicking cancer's behind.

For those of you who have been praying for her, thank you, and KEEP IT UP!

Last week Don and I received an invitation to her daughter, Caroline's high school graduation. I remember when Caroline was a precocious little girl who knew me as "the one who draws". She's grown up to be artsy and creative as well, so hopefully I will be able to one day say, "she's my great-niece who fill-in-the-blank". For now, she's the girl who loves her mom, takes care of her, has awesome videos on You Tube and is about to rock her world.

I can't imagine how proud Pam is now of the daughter who is graduating from a Science Magnet school in Little Rock and heading off to college, all in the midst of her mother's battle with breast cancer.

Pam has been named The Race for the Cure's Honorary Survivor for 2013. She's honored and is fighting the good fight.

Pam: I love you, girl.

From "the one who draws",
Hazel

All Because of Ryan White...

Yesterday, as I was lying on the couch resting (and, yes, the kittens were there as well) because I was having an over-the-top RA day, I went channel surfing. I happened upon an episode of Oprah's " Where Are They Now?". One of the people she followed up on was Ryan White's mother. Remember him? The young man from Indiana who made all the headlines when he was diagnosed with HIV back in the day?  Yeah! That Ryan White.

I have a special place in my heart for Ryan and his mother. Ryan taught us all what it meant to be ridiculed, persecuted, hated, made fun of and ostracized...and all for something that was no fault of his own, and totally out of his control. My heart aches just thinking about what that child lived through!

All because of Ryan White many of us learned that people with HIV/AIDS are just that: people who, for whatever reason, have a horrible cross to bear. I understand that cross, because my family lived it, too. Ryan's tenacity, quiet and gentle spirit, and strength of character were lights to my son, Austin, and me when we lived through the death of my first husband, and Austin's dad, Marc.

No matter how the disease is transmitted, it is horrible. And no one deserves it. I remember when Marc was first diagnosed. It was two weeks before his untimely death giving none of us an opportunity to grasp the severity and reality of the situation. We didn't get to say goodbye. We didn't get to hold his hand. We didn't have the opportunity to tell him all the things we wanted to say. Marc and I had been divorced for six years when he died. He lived in Houston, we, in Colorado Springs. We were still close...we had a son together and wanted nothing more than to do right by him.

When he died, it was surreal, like a bad dream. I thought of Ryan White and how he was treated by those who chose not to understand, those who lived in fear of the unknown. I had chosen many years before to become educated about the disease. It was while I was in nursing school in Little Rock that the AIDS epidemic hit. I assisted with procedures on AIDS patients, bathed them, fed them...and, in those days, none of us knew what kind of precautions to take. We only knew we felt helpless and inadequate in the care of the men who presented with this monster of a disease...a disease that mutated itself every four hours. So when Marc passed, it was a relief of sorts that he wouldn't suffer anymore. He had pneumacystis pneumonia, a symptom if the disease, and the pneumonia actually took his life.

How do you tell your child his father has AIDS? Worse than that, how do you tell  him his father will never get better? At the time, it felt like we were walking through a dream sequence that never ended. Twenty-four years later, I don't think about the illness anymore. I think about the man and how fortunate we were to have him in our lives. Austin and I live our lives, knowing that we were both fortunate and blessed to be a part of his life.

All because of Ryan White...whenever I hear his name, see a photo of him, I remember Marc...and smile.