Holidays

Click here to view this photo book larger

Click here to create your own Shutterfly photo book.

Slightly snowier moment

IMGP5114, a photo by svierling2013 on Flickr.

More photos of us

IMGP5046, a photo by svierling2013 on Flickr.

Aspen Hut Trip 2013

Aspen Hut Trip 2013, a set on Flickr.

For my 39th birthday, I took an ambitious three-night hut trip near Aspen with three amazing guys: Kevin (aka Brussel Sprouts); Steve (bff, CU Boulder) and Hill, who I'd never met but discovered also did a NOLS trip in Patagonia the year after me. We are all in our late 30s. All parents of young children.

The huts are amazing. Look up 10th Mountain Division Huts. Most people do one or two overnights to one hut, with a day trip to explore in between. We decided to attempt to link three: Benedict Huts, McNamara Hut and Margys Hut, separated by about 8 miles each; and to do it in three nights.

As we got out of the car at the trailhead, we stepped into six inches of mud. The first eighth mile of our hike was bone dry, a peculiar omen. The approach to Benedict was only about 6 miles, but it was all uphill. An early start to the morning and a four-hour drive through snow to the trailhead made us suck wind even more. It was a huge physical challenge, but the reward was a sweet hut made of recycled materials and an outhouse with glass walls overhanging the forest.

The second day was a ski through pristine wilderness, requiring quite a bit of route finding and navigating super steep terrain with cruddy snow underfoot. So cruddy, in fact, that when we headed up the opposing, south-facing wall of Hunter Creek, through an aspen stand/boulder field, we had to take our skis off and hike. Long open meadows interspersed between dense woods, one more traverse across a steep wooded slope and a fast glide through an icy field finished that day's 12-hour hike.

The third day was meant to be easy. Follow the trail. Long but easy. Only problem was that it snowed 10 inches overnight. Breaking trail sucked. Lifting a ski full of wet concrete with every step. We made it to Woody Creek alright, but lost the blazes in Spruce Creek and made some bad navigating decisions, worsened by some malfunctioning gear for one member of our group. At 7 p.m. we were at the top of the wrong gully and a storm was blowing in. We were exhausted and had little chance of making it if we continued to break trail, contouring our way back into the drainage we needed to find.

By design, to save weight, we had no tent and no stove. The decision was made to head back down into the trees where we could build a more sheltered camp in the snow. We dug out a deep pit and built a twiggy fire. We snacked on some dry food (and fortunately had iodine in our emergency kits). As the fire burned low, we got into our sleeping bags with all our clothes on, and the thick liners from our ski boots. We padded ourselves underneath with backpacks, waterproof gear and trash bags. And we drifted off to sleep with snow falling in our faces.

Snow fell all night. I buried myself deep within my bag to keep my face dry. I can't claim it was the greatest night of sleep ever had. But I was warm. We were all warm.

The snow pounded down on us all the final day as we continued our decent back to Woody Creek and out to the car via that drainage (which we had determined to be faster than hiking up to the hut).

Gear failures almost brought us to our knees at that point, but the desire for a cup of coffee, a hot meal and the sight of our kids was enough to motivate us to push through.

We made it out by 10:30 a.m. on the fourth morning, as planned, and ate a somewhat gross but satisfying meal at the only Aspen breakfast joint we could afford/that would let us through the door.

On the drive home, critical roads were closing due to snow and accidents. We discovered that the kids were still in Evergreen with no ride home and two closed passes between us and them. Scott was standing at the finish line of the Boston Marathon with Jami (my sister in law), waiting for Brian (his brother) to cross. As we were bickering over getting kids home, news of the bomb arrived. Fortunately Brian was a fast runner and they were no longer in the area when the bombs went off.

Sawyer brought home the stomach bug, which has run its course through my house, and Duncan has developed a sudden skin irritation that causes him to itch all night.

And, one week later, it hasn't stopped snowing.

39. Humph.

Via Flickr:
Benedict, McNamara, Margys

Our Holiday Book

Click here to view this photo book larger

Start your own Shutterfly Photo Book today.

Christmas forest

That's not a tree it's a forest!

Farewell purple palace

This home has served me well for three years, but next week I'm trading coyotes for mountain lions, transient renters for kids next door, and ranch vistas for aspen groves. There are certain things I will miss about the purple palace, like sunsets and moonsets over Blue Ridge and walking to the grocery store or riding my bike to work (ok that was just in my dreams). I will miss the wide open sliding doors in my bedroom but not so much the cold seeping through those doors in winter. I won't miss thin walls and asphalt yards ... Though come mud season I'm bound to miss paved roads, having a garage and plentiful storage space makes up for it. I'm moving into a neighborhood filled with kids and friends and our new house will have expansive spaces ... 4000 sq ft and ... The kicker ... A pool table ... Plus trails from the end of the street. Fare the well purple palace. Fare the well.

My little marine biologist

Arden who is deathly afraid of flies and bees shocked us with her natural affinity for creatures of the sea. She loved picking hermit crabs out of tide pools and delighted in finding the shells of horseshoe crabs on the beach after a storm. Made me wonder what was crunching under my feet when I was jumping in waves with the kids.

Love

Treasure hunt

Cape cod day 1

Pilgrim tower

Sawyer and friend made it to top!

My Leftie

I know nothing about baseball. I didn't even think to have a mitt for Sawyer's first practice this year. So my poor kid is standing out there with the rest of his teammates, wearing a borrowed glove that's three sizes too big for him. Halfway through the practice, watching him play with all the athletic grace of his grandfather (eh-hem), I realized he was trying to throw the ball with the wrong arm and was batting from the wrong side of the tee. My son's a leftie — has been since his first experience picking up Cheerios as a baby. I had to special-order him a small right-hand glove from Ace. I also had to remind the coaches to line him up as a leftie at the tee until Sawyer got used to the feel of swinging. While he's not a superstar on the field (yet), he's really loving tee ball. However, I do have my suspicion that it's more about the outfit and all the gear than the game itself.

The Graduate

O'blah-de, o'blah-da

I struggle, lately, with this blog because I find that I censor myself to the point of being mute. I haven't figured out how to bridge the long stretch between what I would say and what I should say. With that in mind, let me try to catch up.

I am doing great. My relationship with Brussels Sprouts continues to be a blessing. He and his daughter bring warmth and joy to me and the kids. I am working full time now. For the first time since the kids were born, I'm in the office five days a week. I count this new job with the FS among my blessings, every day.

Sawyer is 100% ready for Kindergarten. Holding him back was the best choice. I am feeling that slight sorrow that comes with the realization that my babies are growing up. I am sitting on a precipice, about to become an elementary school mom, with all that comes along with that. Feeling too grown up myself.

 Justin moved to Colorado last fall and completed 8th grade with fabulous marks. Scott remarried in November and the kids now have an extended family that includes Justin, 14, an 11-year-old step brother and a 9-year old step sister. In February, Scott was diagnosed with some sort of nervous-system disorder (not MS but docs still not positive what it is), and he is working hard to rehabilitate himself after an attack that put him in a wheelchair in April. The kids still see their dad every other weekend. They seem to take it all in stride and have been very encouraging of his recovery process.

Summer is upon us, and I have so many plans. These weeks will fly by, and I will only have the kids every other week, so they will fly by even more. I wonder if I will fit in all the things I hope to do. Festina Lente.

My Birthday

 Can't imagine a better way to start my 38th year than this right here. 

Sunrise on Glebe Creek.

Easter

Headed to Virginia for a little dose of real spring, the kind with flowers. 

Had to post this classic. Think my brother and I have one similar.