Tuesday's "assignment"--Teachers Write
2min. to describe a place, then one minute each to add what I see, hear and feel.....go (skip this part and scroll down to the revision for my final draft)

This place is right out side Lake City Co, up Henson Creek canyon actually. It is right off the road after a big hill. It used to be a damn across the river, but now is a damn with a hole in it where you can sit is actually a big, flat rock right off the road. To sit there and look down is breathtaking, historical, beautiful, full of possible stories, and broken dreams as it really represents a piece of Lake City history that is almost all that remains of mining in Lack City. I loved to ride my bicycle up to this spot and have a picnic, or just spend the day because although it is right off the road you cannot be seen from there by passing cars, jeeps, truck, or bicycles. If you are very brave you can walk across the top of the damn. I was neer very brave. I just enjoyed being on top of that part of the world.

Is see the white of the rock, the green of the trees even though they are far away. Although the rock looks white, it is granite, if you look close it it full of specks, pieces, sparkles, and chunks, cracks. Look even closer and you will see parts of brave vegetation growing up between the cracks...strong roots breaking up what has been there for ages. I see the blue, very blue of the Co sky. Sometimes I see "Rocky and Bullwinkle" cartoon clouds, but mostly not...only chunks of blue, chunks of green and expanses of white...the concrete of the damn and the flat of the rock. swallows dipping and diving for bugs

First I hear nothing. It is really vey quiet up there...but du you ever hear just nothing? i don't think so. I hear  rushing. The lazy rushing of the water, or sometimes desparte rushing of the water...depends on the time of the year and how much water has to fit into the hole in the damn. I hear creatures, mostly marmot or pika...squeaking "intruder, Intruder" I hear the call of birds, wind in the trees, occasional stuggles of cars up the dusty road, or huffing and puffing of bicyclists up the the dusty road. Hikers...not so much as they usually start up much higher.

I fell the heat of the summer, the cool breeze...cool by comparison to a Gunnison breeze or a Denver breeze. I feel the heat of the sun, the sweat on my body from the ride, making the breeze  more cool and more welcoming. I feels the squish of my handle bars, the tension of my feet and legs on the pedals as they push down and ride up. I feel the ground under my bike shoes, walking stiffly, over the gravel first and then the rock toward my spot. I feel the heat on the white rock, the smooth surface, the slope of the rock, sloping down to the dam and the cliff. the gentle ripples of stone that make up the flat rock.

My revision

Up Henson Creek

This place is right out side of Lake City Co, up Henson Creek canyon actually. My place is right off the road that winds its way past the Ute Ulay Mine just past a big hill. My spot over looks the remains of a damn across Henson Creek that used to control water resources for the mine, but now is a concrete reminder of what was. The damn is ragged with broken pieces and rebar remains that create a hole in the damn. Where I go is actually a big, flat rock off the road wide enough to feel safe, yet slanted enough to feel risky. Although the rock looks white...it is granite...if I look close my rock is full of specks, pieces, sparkles, chunks, cracks, and ripples. Look even closer and you will see parts of brave vegetation growing up between the cracks...strong roots breaking up what has been there for ages. To sit there and look down is breathtaking, historical, full of possible stories, and broken dreams as it really represents a piece of Lake City history that is mysterious and intriguing.

Mostly the sky is the very blue of a Colorado sky, sometimes broken up with "Rocky and Bullwinkle" cartoon clouds, but mostly not...only chunks of blue, chunks of green and expanses of white...the concrete of the damn and the flat of the rock.  Swallows dipping and diving for bugs, the longer I stay the more swallows show up...they love the attention as much as they love the bugs. When the background noises separate themselves into recognizable chunks, the loudest, although not distracting, is the rushing of the water. Sometimes lazy, sometimes desperate depending on the time of the year...run off or mid summer...as water competes to get through the hole in the damn. I can hear the squeak of  pikas and the fuss of whistle pigs, the occasional vehicle or huffing and puffing bicyclist, although by walking just a bit further I remove my self from all noises man made.

 I loved to ride my bicycle up to this spot. The squish of my handle grips and the rhythmic push/release/push of my feet and legs as I ride up to my spot makes the sweat and the effort worth it. I am grounded in my spot. I can have a picnic, read a book, think, or just spend the day. I feel safe, secluded and on top of that part of the world.

Monday Morning Warm Up--Teachers Write

So, I started participting in teachers write hosted by Kate Messner and other great people willing to guide.
http://www.katemessner.com/blog/
My first task was to decide where to house my teachers write writing. And after deciding my blog was a good place, I began the "quest for the password, which, I believe, is some sort of a write of passage when one is trying to access something that has not been touched for a while. Finally ready to write about the Monday AM warm up...thanks to author Jo Knowles
http://jbknowles.livejounal.com

A bit about my kitchen...
After experiencing life in a construction zone our kitchen was finally remodeled. My mother, or maybe it was my father, had a passion for things Native American. In this kitchen, by the backdoor, was a wooden sliding door that covered some sort of closet or pantry. It was a plain, hollow, wooden two panel sliding door, that said to my father, "paint me".

In my world my father was the best artist. He could draw a very compelling alligator, but his real "thing" was designing and constructing. The design and painting of this sliding door presented a challenge right up his alley. Black, glossy background (lots of coats to make it really shine), carefully cut stencil of a circle bisected by arrows and feathers, and painstaking work with little brushes created the most precise Native American symbol that ever graced anyone's kitchen! I believe this door was the only nod to Native American art in my otherwise eclectic kitchen, and although the painted door was in corner, away from the kitchen action, I can still see the design and smell the oil based glossy paint.