Happy Chinese New Year!

So, while we were upstate, we had this crazy-big car.

The whole reason for the big car was that it was supposed to snow the day we arrived, our flight arrived late-ish, and we had to drive from Newark to Woodstock, two hours on the highway. To be on the safe side, we decided to go with AWD. The rental place at Newark had two AWD vehicles, a Murano, and a brand-spankin-new Jeep model that no one had tried yet. It had 7 miles on it when we packed into it. We decided to give it a go.

I have to say this is not what either of us would choose to drive on a regular basis. It felt a lot like driving a tank on the freeway...unwieldy, and not exactly what you'd call aerodynamic. It was, however, kind of fun to clamber into that huge thing every morning for a few days.
We have fun on our trips. Can you tell?

Just for pretty

Sled Hill

Another blast from the past...this is Woodstock's sled hill, where children have sledded for as long as any of us can remember. I sledded here as a child, and I'm sure my mother did as well. This time, it was Q's turn.
Q has never been sledding downhill before, so we weren't sure what to expect by way of reaction. The hill is a fairly fast one, and with all the cold temps the snow was hard. But I watched her face all the way down and there wasn't so much as a moment of apprehension, even on the first run. She looked absolutely confident that this was something she could handle.
And of course, as soon as the sled stopped, there was a "More, more, more!" From Q. She still signs in addition to speaking even if it's a word she is confident in pronouncing, so "more" is a very emphatic double statement from the Q!

It was late afternoon and beautiful light. Really, we could not have experienced lovelier winter weather on the East Coast this time.

I have so enjoyed making memories all over again in the place where my first memories were formed.

My apologies for the plethora of posts lately, but I'm having one of those moments when I realize that my recent library of fabulous photos (all Q photos are fabulous, to my eye at least) is so overflowing, so bulging-at-the-seams, that I am in danger of running into the next season before I finish posting them. I know that it's only just barely February, but trust me, it's a real and present danger. And I know from past experience (all those beautiful flower photos from last summer!) that if I run into the next season before finishing my current season of photos, those unused photos just sink into obscurity somewhere in a disc file, never to be seen again. Which is, let's face it, a little bit tragic. So, the story I have to tell in this post is about a flat file cabinet.
Not intrigued?
Well, my drafter's soul thrills to the words "flat file". And in fact this was an item that has been missing from my studio for far too long. I have a lot of drawings and paintings - some of them quite large for watercolor, which have been floating around on random shelves and in unkempt stacks in our garage for far, far too long. This is no way to treat beloved paintings. I needed a flat file. I have needed a flat file for years. Relief came in the form of an early birthday present from my mum - a beautiful hardwood mission-style flat file which arrived in a delivery truck with only one driver, so that I (with my puny arms) had to wrestle the darned thing myself up a flight of stairs and through several sets of narrow doors into my studio.

Q came upon me in the process of unwrapping the piece, and was distractable only by dint of several yards of bubble wrap while I readied it for use. Distractable, that is, until she observed me screwing in the drawer handles (I'd bought my own) with a screwdriver.

My little tomboy, this riveted her instantly. She watched for all of fifteen seconds before wresting the screw driver from me and...
yup, she nailed it.
My little cabinet builder. I was going to take it away from her, but her skill was so fine and so instantaneous that I just let her go at it while I took up the camera and documented the whole thing.
This kid is TWO, might I remind you.
Sorry about her sartorial state these days. It's all, I'm afraid, down to Little Bear, the Minarik-written, Sendak-illustrated bear cub who learns that he doesn't need to wear clothes in the winter because he already has his very own natural fur coat. This story has been the bane of my existence this winter. I wish Little Bear had never darkened our door.

That said...do you just love her primal gesture of triumph in the last shot, after successfully mastering the screwdriver and the drawer-pulls? I'm going to have to get her a little toddler-sizedtool belt, I think. Anyone know where I can find one?
Ahhhhhhhhh. Now that's more like it!

Editing these photos, I couldn't help but think about how I see my erstwhile hometown through very different eyes in recent years. I suppose I see all of life through different eyes, after all...I'm a big fan of aging, which may sound odd in this day and age, and coming from an American. Americans don't value age, but I think they should. I heard my mother say it long before I ever experienced it myself - that each decade was better than the last. From my perspective now, I'd have to say that's true, and I hope it continues to be true.
In my very young years, I was too preoccupied, too caught up in some image of the glittering unattainable to see the beauty in what lay all around me, in the cracks of a sidewalk, in the arch of the eves, in the rustle of dry leaves on the snow.
I dearly appreciate these fresh eyes that maturity has given me. There were so many details I missed, so much splendor in the moment.
This place is the Gilded Carriage, which I spoke of in a previous post. It was a favorite haunt from my childhood, and still holds all the wonders of those early years for me.
It's still a beautiful place full of treasures.
This window on the side of the building, for some reason, is the one that has always held the most magic for me...gazing in at all those translucent, crystalline rows of fine glassware, so artfully arranged. This is an image I see echoed time and again in the years that make up my past.
And then there are the details that I only notice now with my more careful eye.
There's a great joy in layering the experience of a child, the next generation, over all those layers of memory from the past. It's funny to say that I never understood the "attraction" of having children until Q came along. I just didn't get it. It all seems so obvious now.

Another beautiful Woodstock hike with my mother and her Australian sheepdog.
Overlooking Woodstock...

Woodland beauty.
It bears mentioning that this was during a deep freeze on the East Coast, and the temperatures were bitter. Granted, we in Colorado are spoiled by dry air (makes even the deepest cold feel milder), lots of sun, and temperate seasons. As I've said before, many people don't realize just how mild a climate Colorado really has..especially by comparison to New York! But this may help explain both the layers of heavy clothing, and, in part, the beauty of the scenery during these hikes.
Let me tell you it was worth the cold noses and toes, the layers of down and long underwear, and the oversized boots (which I had to borrow from my husband...good thing my feet are so big!)

Deep ice over deep water.
Happy dogs.