Category Archives: Photos

Christmas news 2021

Cherry Odelberg, Durango, Colorado, December 2021

It has been a really great year full of blessings and good surprises, never mind that we are now in the deepest darkest days of winter, I am experiencing the second cold in about as many weeks, and I definitely overbooked myself when I dipped my exploratory toe back into the workforce. Yes. I worked 50 hours in seven days last week– all in the name of survival, being a responsible employee, and independent retiree. But let’s start with the good stuff.

In January, February and March I kept to the house other than my daily 3 to 8 mile jaunts into the great outdoors. I practiced music, I wrote books, I published books. Life was grand. Andrea and I and my Dad took a two week road trip to the Northwest at the end of March. We had fun staying in contactless check-in Air B&Bs and visiting cousins and their families along the route. Andrea and I had fun. Dad rather missed the opportunities to socialize and joke with motel or restaurant staff – but he was totally satisfied by getting to visit with Joyce and Rod, David and Virginia Anderson and family; David and Gayle Harris and family, Cathi and Chuck. We even got to hike and enjoy a seafaring meal with Philip, and we met Shannon and Lisa on the outskirts of Salt Lake City to share an outdoor meal.

Once home again, Andrea returned to her seasonal job as a wilderness ranger with the National Forest Service and I continued writing and set about looking for music opportunities with which to supplement my income. 

On May 21, I took a trip to Grand Junction to attend the high-school graduation of oldest grandson, Drew. Although I made it before the ceremony was over, the trip included traversing Coal Bank Pass, Molas Pass and Red Mountain Pass in eight to 12 inches of snow. Andrea followed a couple hours behind in her truck and was the last driver over before they closed Red Mountain. While I awaited the go ahead at the top of Red Mountain, I changed from my graduation sandals into my hiking boots and threw a down coat over my sleeveless dress.

In late spring, Dad and I spent an adventurous night in a cabin on Grand Mesa and followed that with an outdoor luncheon at Coni and Steve’s.

Dad traveled to Durango with me to spent four days which we repeated again in the summer. At Thanksgiving Kevin and family passed through. We enjoyed 24 hours of music and hiking before they went on to Phoenix to have Thanksgiving with Sarah’s sister. Dad stayed with me for another four days.

In June I began playing piano for Saturday and Sunday morning brunch at a local French bakery. I like it immensely. I play love songs from the early ¾ of the 20th Century. I spent a few days in Lake City with my kayak paddling every evening and hiking every day with friend Linda and her kayak. I also hiked Highland Mary’s Trail outside Silverton with friend Johanna and was privileged to have other good friends drop in and hike with me throughout the warm months. I took my kayak out solo so many times I have lost count. In October, my roommate (aka Andrea) moved out which greatly increased my living expenses. No worries. I found seasonal work on the Polar Express and then an administrative music job at Stillwater Music opened up – just the job I had been hoping for. In 2020 I sang virtually with the Durangatones from Stillwater. Now I enjoy playing keyboard with Groove Casters (also a Stillwater Adult Band).

I continue to write stories. I am writing songs again. I even played electric bass at a church meeting last summer. See what I mean? Life is good!

Blessings on your new year!

A Slippery Slope

A slippery slope is rarely what you think it is. Rarely a place where you stop and dither and over-think and chose your path knowing that it is or is not a slippery slope. No. A slippery slope is just any ordinary trail like every other ordinary trail you have ever hiked that suddenly, without warning causes you to lose your footing and stumble. The last time I had a memorable fall on a hiking trail was coming down Gold Star at Colorado National Monument. That time, on a very innocuous portion of the trail, my feet rolled on pebbles and my arm landed on teeny tiny cactus. The year before that, I was on a presumed dry portion of Clunker and I slipped and my entire backside got plastered with bentonite mud. I am pretty sure these are not the kinds of falls and stumbles the public health interviewer is asking about when she says to someone over sixty, “How many times have you fallen in the last year?”

*****

I was hiking on Monday – something I do as often as possible – maybe 6 or 7 days a week – sometimes twice in one day. It was hot – hotter than I would have liked – but then, it is summer and even though I was at 8,000 feet in elevation we were enduring a heat wave. It was not a new trail nor was it new to me. I clipped along at my usual pace seeing no one until two runners passed me beside the wetlands. I continued through a mini alpine jungle and began the descent that would take me through a run-off, seasonably dry. Still nothing unusual except the heat of the day – although it should be noted as the heat increases, dirt and scree seems to become looser, more apt to be volatile. Mid-stride my foot skated on a small piece of rock. I went down, not to my face or to my butt but folded up like an accordion. My toes curled so tight as my balance reflex kicked in that I felt a sudden, bright pain in my big toe – a pain I haven’t felt since I lost a toenail in childhood. At the same time the elastic to the left and under my breastbone snapped. Wait! Elastic? Do I have a tendon running horizontal under my lowest rib? Whatever it is, I heard it and felt it. I felt it right in the same place where I sometimes feel a niggling little flutter as I try to drift off to sleep at night after planking for 10 seconds extra – and it’s not my heart. Well, I was certainly able to continue my hike and enjoy lunch in a beautiful place and make my return hike, but I walked a little slower and somewhat gingerly as I went out to the Opera House that night because my left toes – three of them – were starting to exhibit pain. I enjoyed an 8 mile walk along the river on Wednesday without pain. Sleeping at night has not been a problem. I prop my legs so the sheet does not rest on my injured toenail. I wake in leisurely fashion in the predawn light and stretch and wiggle my digits and appendages gently. Like a good chiropractic or masseuse apprentice, I explore the most worn discs and tender ligaments and muscles of my body before rising to greet the day. The area under my rib cage is definitely more tender than it ought to be. I spent some time online researching organs and ribs and rest and recovery. It’s time to go to the grocery for healthful food.

When I want to go to town, I walk in. Being the busy tourist season, employees that work on Main Street have to park up by my place anyway so I probably can’t park any closer. I live on 9th Street, but I usually walk a block or two out of my way to cross Third Avenue at a 4 way stop. It is safer that way. Not many drivers know the speed limit on Third Avenue is 25 miles per hour. Oh, I know, pedestrians have the right-of-way. But what good does it do if the car in the first lane stops considerately for you thereby luring you into the path of the second lane where the driver has no intention of stopping?

So today I walked into town. I crossed at the 4 way stop on 8th and made it safely to Main where I choose always to cross at a traffic light. I know from experience, barring any impatient left-hand turners, I can make it safely across the street once the countdown starts – even if the number is already on six. But not today. Not even setting out on 10. There will be no running today. Also no lifting, which is why I didn’t take my kayak out in the middle of the week. I slipped on a slippery slope on Monday and I need to recoup. Anyway, I walked to the store and got carrots and beets because those are supposed to be good spleen food and just plain healthy. But I didn’t get red beets – I got yellow – because even though I am not a worrywart, I don’t want to have a heart attack thinking I have internal bleeding. Self-diagnosis can also be a slippery slope.

Another lunch in a beautiful place….

Undercover movie stars and Facebook stalking my grown kids

I had been writing for several years and was already published as a High Timber Times correspondent when I started blogging in 2006.  My daughter-in-law had a photo blog, which she updated regularly with photos of my infant grandsons; and she was honing her writing skills by blogging with other young mothers.  Shortly, I became addicted to the daily routine of checking out the internet and composing comments.

By 2008 conventional author wisdom said writers needed a platform on Facebook.  Dutifully, I built a profile. The first friends I chose were my technology wise children. With the oldest in media business, the second in college and the third in high school, I lurked, I stalked and basically kept up with their busy lives by watching for daily photos and conversations.

I visited college.  I met my daughter’s dorm mates and support network. I friended some. Others made insightful comments.  I followed them. I met my younger son’s girlfriends.  I shared prom pictures. Some of the girls remain my Facebook friends today.

So really, is it any wonder I proceeded to “research” my daughter’s new network when she began working high in the mountains at an adventure camp this summer?

Of course I began with Facebook.  For starters, I had to find the last names of the young men by cross-referencing mutual friends. Then I plugged a name into Google.

Up came a series of images. The usual suspects.  An accountant. A couple of college professors. A farm-team athlete. Gasp!  But, who was this movie star?  Hot.  With a photo like that you’d have to be a household name like Zac Efron. Maybe James Marsden. Well-known heartthrob! Yet, the features are unmistakably those of said co-worker. But the hair!  The clothes! Expensive. The obvious mark of a professional. Publicist. Stylist. Savvy photographer. “Andrea,” I croaked aloud,  “do you have any idea who you are working with?” Alert! Movie star undercover at AIE Base Camp!

Leather jacket. White, white for the T-shirt.  Confident and engaging pose.  Reminiscent of, of…. Wait – let me think while I fan myself. That’s it!  Senior pictures. Reminiscent of the senior pictures of my youngest son. Photo shoot compliments of my oldest son.

Who is this undercover movie star who works with my daughter in the wilds of Colorado? Relax mom, these are only senior pictures of a hot teenager with intuitive style. And the artistic work of a savvy professional photographer!

Philip Shellabarger 2009, Photo credit Kevin Decker, Paradice Studios
Philip Shellabarger 2009, Photo credit Kevin Decker, Paradice Studios

 

A Perfect Fortune Cookie

DSCN5831benchcreekI had lunch at a little Chinese place with my parents, my aunt and two family friends. We met as early as possible because I had an appointment in Cedaredge at 1:00 p.m.  The conversation was usual, with plenty of good natured joking.  As I rose to rush off, I flung an unopened fortune cookie into the take-out box and headed for my car.  The rain was just beginning and it followed me all the way up highway 50 with varying intensity. Independent educators ran for the building and rain continued to drum on the roof throughout our our orientation meeting. When the meeting concluded at 4:00 the rain had abated.  I drove a few more miles toward Grand Mesa, up to my cousin’s place at 8,000 feet. She wasn’t home from work yet, so after I said hello to her husband, I changed my shoes and took a hike; through beautiful rain washed scrub oak, service berry, choke-cherry and pine trees, down by the creek that rushes through the lower part of their property.  My soul was drinking in the refreshment and beauty at every turn. DSCN5829creek

My cousin came home.  We threw some fresh veggies on the stove and ran outside again to see the vivid and complete rainbow.  And then, I opened my fortune cookie.

DSCN5836fortunecookie

Wild (Work) Wednesdays

Ever feel like the place you work is a little wild? Today’s Wild Wednesday picture post is all about wild things at my seasonal place of work.

Wild weather, August 2012
Wild weather, August 2012

Wild Life. Desert bighorn ewe, March, 2013
Wild Life. Desert bighorn ewe, March, 2013

Independence Monument, May, 2013
Independence Monument, May, 2013

Wild rocks, wild weather, Independence Monument, January, 2013
Wild rocks, wild weather, Independence Monument, January, 2013

Wild Hogs at the visitor center, Colorado National Monument, August, 2012
Wild Hogs at the visitor center, Colorado National Monument, August, 2012

Wild (flower) Wednesday

It’s time for Wild Wednesdays; the day I post photos of things I love that are wild.

May 16, 2013 on the trail to Mica Mine
May 16, 2013 on the trail to Mica Mine

DSCN5353purple

May 15, 2013 No Thoroughfare Canyon Trail
May 15, 2013 No Thoroughfare Canyon Trail

May 15, 2013 Nature's landscape.  Large Indian Paintbrush on No Thoroughfare Canyon Trail
May 15, 2013 Nature’s landscape. Large Indian Paintbrush on No Thoroughfare Canyon Trail

Little Barrel Cactus - Claret Cup - May 13, 2013 Gunni Loop Trail
Little Barrel Cactus – Claret Cup – May 13, 2013 Gunni Loop Trail

Everything blooms, even the willow.  No Thoroughfare Canyon at the first pool, May 15, 2013
Everything blooms, even the willow. No Thoroughfare Canyon at the first pool, May 15, 2013

Survive or Thrive? Putting my house in order

Cherry Odelberg, November 2011

The fall weather is beautiful.  It makes me want to set my house in order, get rid of the chaff of a lifetime, prepare for a cozy and uncluttered winter. At the approach of 2012, I made it my goal to live the year as though it was all I had been given, a gift of 365 days to thrive or survive.  I have survived, stabilized, reached a rhythm of contentment where I love my life and am mostly free of worry.  Yet, in the remaining two months, I want to thrive.  There are still things to do, places to go, people to see; even as I tuck everything in for the winter. I want to finish strong. Though it is not baseball season, I would love to knock one out of the park before the year’s end. A home run, a victorious finish, that’s what I want. How about you?  Are you exhausted by the time of year or exhilarated by the time of year? I want to align with Caleb:

Mt Garfield from Holy Cross

Give me this mountain!

‘Tho my sight is gone my vision has not dimmed.

Morrow Lake Trail

Give me this mountain,

And renew my strength to mount on eagles wings.

For I have seen you miracles and I believe your promises,

I have run the race, and in your name I now obtain the prize!

Give me this mountain,

One more thing before I die,

Hermits Rest, Morrow Lake

One more chance to prove your promises,

One more war to wage for right,

One more race to run with you right there by my side.

There’s been fire by night and clouds by day,

Manna eaten along the way,

Dry land where the sea had been,

And water from a rock to meet my need.

Morrow Dam Lake

Give me this mountain!

Tho a valley lies beside it,

And Jordan River bound s the other side.

Give me this mountain!

Let me conquer while the young men stand in awe.

I have lived to see this moment and from the highest peak I’ll cry,

Independence Monument, late summer inversion, 2012

“Give me this mountain!

And in peace;

Let me die!”

Cherry Odelberg 1995  (the irony of this date is not lost on me, I was 40 years old when I wrote these lyrics and first recorded the accompaniment)

As I approach my birthday

Cherry Odelberg

A couple of days ago during a spontaneous dinner conversation about familial love and responsibility, my seven year old grandson reassured his parents not to worry, “Grandma Cherry will take care of you when you get old.”  I am Grandma Cherry.  I am glad he feels I am up to the task. His comment also gives insight into my personality strengths and weaknesses and how I am viewed by others. Seeking clarity, I asked him, “What age is a person when they are old?”  “Oh,” pondered he, “about 90.”

“In that case,”  I said, “I will be about 117 when your daddy gets old (in actual fact, I will be 109). Do you think I will be able to take care of him?”

In a few more days, I will turn – – another year older.  I have grandchildren ages 2,4,7 and 9.  I have grown children ages 21, 23, and 29 for the ninth time.  I chase my grandchildren, pick them up, swing the younger ones into the air and walk four miles every day I get the chance. I color my hair with my DIL and jam with my rock band offspring whenever I am welcome – but, I am no spring chicken. So last night it came as a mild surprise once again when the same grandson said, “Grandma Cherry,” you’re not old.

“Why do you think I am not old?”  I asked.  “Because you don’t have wrinkles,” he replied.  This, in the face of the fact that he is often fascinated by my moles and age spots.

Grandchildren with Grandma Cherry. Photo credit, Kevin Decker 2011

Like a true baby-boomer, I don’t always act my age, nor do I want to grow old.  There are still things to do, people to see, places to go. I long to travel, but travel costs money.  To earn money requires time; time that would otherwise be used on those same people to see and places to go. In addition to writing online, I make my daily bread at the delightful task of teaching piano lessons to six students and tutoring three others.  Recently, I added a seasonal job at our local Colorado National Monument – a huge tourist attraction.

While congratulating me on such a inspiring job, my good friend asked, “Aren’t there other National Parks you could visit and support yourself at the same time by working there?”

Yes.  What a great idea.  There are 397 National Parks.  If I chose the best in each of the 50 states and worked a different one each summer season – – I don’t have that many summers left.  Even with my youthfulness, I am getting old.  I have a birthday next week.

When Debris Becomes Life

I love to walk. I loved to walk on the beach when I lived in Edmonds, Washington last year.

As I walked on the beach at low tide, I would see interesting debris; things the tide had washed in and then left stranded on the sand or rocks. Besides the usual crabs and kelp, there were empty soda bottles, food containers. Those didn’t stay long.  Either the tide washed them back out, or community minded folk who have adopted the beach strolled by and picked them up, delivering them to the proper recycle receptacle.

There are other relics on the beach; random poles not seen at high tide, remnants of piers and docks that used to be, which are no longer serviceable as anything but roosts for eagles and momentary resting places for seagulls.

From time to time, I saw some rubber gasket like things, about eight inches in diameter.  These were strewn randomly, sometimes caught between two well worn rocks, or half buried in sand.

There is an upscale marina located in the area, I took these halved donuts to be bits of boat or dock protective bumper apparatus.  How careless, thought I, in an otherwise well maintained marina and port; these things are not collected and recycled or tossed. A few times, I thought of asking someone, but just never got around to it.  

Early in July, I was able to attach myself to a noon hour, ranger guided tour of the beach at very low tide. It was here I learned that the supposed gaskets I had been observing were actually egg cases for the Moon Snail. When the Ranger told us this, I thought she was joking; pulling a seaside equivalent of a snipe hunt on us; particularly me, a born and bred inlander, newly arrived at the sea. Further research proved this to be a bonafide bit of marine biology information.

And now, I cannot help but wonder, how many things have happened in my life that I have considered debris, trash; that were actually life giving? How many jobs, friendships, or challenges have I tossed and recycled before they were hatched? How many times have I said, “God, you must be joking!”  When I was staring at a golden opportunity?