Abundance and Scarcity, 10″ x 7″ Watercolor and Gouache, By Donna Lyons © 2018

“There’s a bit of nostalgia, or is it an ache someplace deep down inside me, that causes a twinge in my heart when the autumn breezes set the golden ‘quakies’ in motion. I love looking upwards to see the chromatic canopy moving against a turquoise sky. The shimmer of brilliance and motion that move across the mountainside excites me, tantalizing my imagination with the music and clatter of leaves only aspen know how to make.

“Or, is it a vague sadness. A mourning for golden high-country days long passed that still shimmer for me: Memories of a crisp morning on horseback, riding through tall, jeweled stands of slender trunks and gracefully gilded branches, listening for Nature’s wisdom on the breeze and finding it with a trusted companion, warm sunshine on corduroy shoulders beneath a broad-brimmed hat, and those golden ‘coins’ that lie scattered so perfectly on the trail under my pony’s feet.” – D.L.

Finding a Favorite

By Marty Coffin Evans © 2024

How fortunate we are to live in an area with seasons! We may ask or comment about a favorite. I’m not sure if I can find just one season I like more than another. They’re different.

Seeing the beautiful turn of aspen leaves may move fall to the top of many Coloradans’ favorite season list. We read about special area drives to see the best splay of autumn colors. Or we may hear about these locations during our news programs.

Those from the East Coast or Midwest may comment that Colorado’s colors pale in comparison to those in their locales. Our trees give us golds but not the deep reds found elsewhere.

Not long from now, local newspapers will hold contests for those interested in guessing the date of the first snowfall. Enter winter at some point, perhaps a favorite season for some. The beauty of our blue skies against the white backdrop of our mountains elicits a sense of gratification for this time. For those for whom winter lands at the bottom of the seasonal list, waiting through the cold, snowy times may seem to take forever.

In Colorado, we don’t have to look at our calendars to know when spring arrives.  Making it through the sometime muddy days getting there, soon flowers begin to bloom. Springtime in the Rockies for me conjures up images of lilacs complete with their wonderful fragrance.

During some years with cool, wet spring, it may seem summer will never arrive. When it does, often the temperatures shoot up leaving us wishing for cooler days.  We know Colorado gives us cool evenings and, if history holds, gentle rainstorms mid-afternoon. “Gentle” here might include hail, much to our distress and that of our flowers and vegetable plants.

If someone asked me my favorite season, I’m not sure if I could answer the question. The splashes of Aspen on hillsides take my breath away. The beauty of snow-covered hillsides beneath a full moon, captures my heart and remains vivid in my mind’s eye from year’s past. Layer in the fragrance of lilacs and I’m transported to my childhood days growing up in Colorado.

I give up! I have to admit; I’m lost in finding that favorite. Maybe you’ll have better luck!’

October 2025

“Just Ducky,” 8″x10″ Gouache, By Donna Lyons © 2024

“Rollin’ along”

By Marty Coffin Evans © 2023

I’ve been around for millions of years just rolling along, from Lake Itasca, Minnesota to the Gulf of Mexico. I’ve been part of settling this country and its western expansion. I’m a special place full of stories that excite the imagination.

Even from earlier territorial wars, treaties, fur trading, forts, and commerce, I’ve not seen it all. I know there’s more to come.

In my upper part, they’ve built locks and dams to control my water’s flow up and down the river. I used to change my course, just a little bit. That didn’t last too long!

Of course, periodically I change my depth enough to make navigating sandbars a challenge. I know, it’s not good to get stuck on them, but I can’t help how much sediment builds up or water comes each year. I can’t really apologize for my waters’ natural force.

Sometimes, I flow very fast and high and even cause flooding. Other times, I run slow and a little shallow. That makes navigating my waters “interesting” for all those different boat captains.

If I weren’t already big enough as the ole Mississippi River, others have joined my upper, middle and lower parts. There are so many names I can’t remember all of them. I do know the Ohio, Arkansas, and Missouri Rivers have joined along in making me so special. There are more complicated stories about the Red and Atachafala Rivers leaving me behind.  I’m trying not to take that personally.

Towns have grown beside my banks. Years ago, steamboats were the big attraction as they floated town to town using my water to move them along. What a beautiful sight it was in those days. “Steamboats a comin’!” I remember hearing. Villagers would come running to see those beautiful paddlewheel boats and passengers.

Even today when these river boats dock, villagers come to meet the passengers. Locals guide visitors around their towns sharing stories about their unique place in history

Huge barges have continued to make their way up and down my waters. They’re not nearly as beautiful as those steamboats or other river vessels. Some of those barges are so big, they have to kinda split themselves to get through some of my locks. That feels weird having part of the barge in the lock before it’s moved on out and then joined by the rest.

I like how travelers enjoy all the recreation my water can provide. I’ve watched those small boats out early in the morning with fishermen hoping to lure something for a meal. Fish and waterfowl are plentiful in and around me. So too are wild game in some areas.  You can see how I became popular for settlements with the surrounding abundance. Like all good things, that changes too.

I’ve made history as different industries formed near my banks. From lumber to buttons, flour mills and more, my place in commerce is well established. Some industries spoiled me decades ago with refuse from their plants. Many are now trying to clean me up a bit. I know I’ve been part of a few political battles during my lifetime. Maybe I still am.

Of course, I’ve had my share of fame, by being immortalized in scholarly works, novels, movies, songs, and musicals. I bet some can’t think of me without a song popping into their minds or remembering Huck Finn and Tom Sawyer stories.

Regardless of what they think, or even call me, I’m Mighty, Muddy, Majestic, the Great River. I’d say Beautiful too, and, as the song goes, “I just keeps rollin’ along!”

September 2025

“Capitol Reef Arroyo, ” 4″ x 7,”. Watercolor, By Donna Lyons © 2013

The roads mistakenly traveled

By Marty Coffin Evans © 2023

My husband and I have apparently begun the habit of traveling on roads which, in hindsight, we should have missed. These shouldn’t-have-taken roads, have provided the fodder for funny stories and lots of laughter…later.

Our first mistakenly traveled road, occurred in Georgia when we left the Whistle Stop Café (think “Fried Green Tomatoes”).  I thought I could find my way out of the various roads in search of I-85. Turning left, those trees didn’t look right. I made a U Turn, headed the opposite direction where, once again, those trees didn’t look right nor had we planned on visiting an area plantation.

Eventually, I wound my way back and stopped in front of the Whistle Stop Café. My snoozing husband, woke up, asked if I needed the restroom. No, I’m trying to find my way out of this friggin’ area. Following the provided directions, we found I-85! We received a Garmin that Christmas.

Our next “mistaken” road happened in California. With son Adam at the wheel, we headed over a crazy, curvy mountain pass in the wine country. Once safely on the other side, vineyard staff commented, “Even the locals don’t take that road!”

Not to be outdone by either of these states, we had our own Colorado adventure. With directions loaded into our Waze app, we headed west on I-70 for a 10^th Mountain Division Memorial Day Celebration in the High Country. We entered Tennessee Pass into Waze, were told to turn onto East Tennessee Pass Road, and, so we did. Bouncing over deep ruts, scraping shrub bushes on either side, periodic dips full of water on this rough road, Waze announced we’d reach our destination! Really?!

Recalculate! We made a U Turn, traveled 13 miles back to find the correct destination – Camp Hale, home of the 10^th Mountain Division.

Specifics can make a difference! What mistakenly traveled road is your favorite?

July 2025

“Platte River Symphony,” 9″ x 6,” Gouache, Copyright © 2016 by Donna Lyons

“Creating Life’s Score”

By Marty Coffin Evans © 2023

Several months ago, I read beautiful comments written by a woman about her late musician husband. She wrote eloquently about his work as a symphony.

It started me thinking. I wondered how our own lives would be remembered musically or otherwise.

If we created our own symphony, or at least our life’s score what would it contain. We all play a part in creating such a score. Would we carry the melody? Would we add the harmony? Would ours be lyrical? Hauntingly beautiful? Bombastic?  The answer is probably, all of the above depending on our life’s circumstances or experiences.

Then again, what about tempo. Would ours be fast or slow? What about the volume? Might we blend the tempo with volume?

Perhaps our lives have varied the fast tempo with loud “notes.” Or, most likely, there have been slow, soft, melodic, reflective times. Alternating tempo and sound may reflect certain aspects of our lives both the most wonderful and cherished along with the sad, plaintive times.

On occasion, we might have been creating the more discordant portions of our life’s score. Blending and intermingling with the “notes” of others could well have broadened our own symphony.

Most likely, our life’s score will involve interacting with others. Much as musical scores involve the interplay of parts, so too does our life. Unless ours is a solo version only, mixing, matching, and blending with others creates that life score.

Compositions from our childhood may vary from those in our different adult years. A recurring theme may yet emerge in this score.

How will our life’s score be played and enjoyed by others? Will we smile at those last notes? Will we be pleased?

June 2025