"Me when my bosses are having a meeting and I hear my name."

Happy Birthday to my son who is the funniest person I know.  He makes us laugh at ourselves, and turns the mundane into the extraordinary.

Deity of the Morning

Longs Peak: viewed from Fort Collins Colorado

Every morning as I drive to work, Longs Peak comes up on the horizon and greets me. It makes me smile when I see it, but I wish I had a more eternal name for it. A name that is a reflection of its beauty and presence, not a name that has been borrowed from a man. This mountain seems to be a sacred thing, like a deity that anchors me to this new place.

The Navajo understand the sacredness of mountains, and they have four sacred mountains that form the borders of their homeland, “Dinetah.” Their mountains also have names that have been given to them by men, but the Navajo have given them sacred names: Tsisnaasjini aka Mount Blanca (Dawn or White Shell Mountain), Tsoodzil aka Mount Taylor (Turquoise Mountain, Doko'oosliid aka San Francisco Peaks ( Abalone Shell Mountain), and Dibé Nitsaa aka Mount Hesperus (Obsidian Mountain). In my heart, I am going to rename my mountain, maybe I will call it Morning Mountain, because everyday it brings me a fresh new morning

This suburban adventurer braved the wild, and took a short hike along the Cache la Poudre River near Fort Collins.  Don't you just love this name?  I do. (More about the name later, I promise)

 My little red car and I headed down highway 14, and my heart was filled with the desire for adventure. Soon, I found myself at the head of a road side trail, and set out on my quest.  It was not long before I encountered the first of many hazards along the way, a treacherous set of concrete stairs, littered with eons of dislodged pebbles, and pine needles. At first I felt somewhat daunted but I bravely marshaled on in spite of the recurring mental image of me sprawled face first in the dust.

Later, when I reached the tops of the stairs, my next task would involve risking life and limb crossing this narrow mountain highway.  No traffic, you say, but any moment an out of control semi could come flying around the corner.  Hey, it could happen.

Despite the threat of phantom trucks, I make it across the highway and now encounter the downward steps.  Desi, I say, "These look more dangerous then the others, no hand rail.  O.K. take a deep breath Desi, you can do it." 

This band of travelers was hot on my heels as I came down the stairs, but I was too afraid to stop and let them pass.  When at last I found myself safely at the bottom I let them pass me on the bridge.  I was glad to let them go ahead, because I was worried about ticks (I swear I feel them crawling all over me right now), but hopefully this group will scare them all away before I get there.  However if we were to come upon a black bear, I am afraid every one of them would all be able to outrun me!

Luckily, I didn't encounter any trucks, ticks, bears, or poison ivy, and actually spent a lovely day along the river, taking pictures, and remembering why I love Colorado.  I miss the ocean but Colorado's rivers are stunning and peaceful, and good for the soul. 

Now for the name.  The Fort Collins History Connection, relates a story about a party of fur trappers who were caught in a snow storm along the river.  When the storm passed they realized that they would need to lighten their load before they could continue.  So, they dug a pit near the river to hide their "cache," and because most of what they buried consisted of gun powder the river becomes, "Cache la Poudre,"  Which translates as: "the place where the powder was hidden."  Cool name, right?  

I am happy to have found a home near my children and this beautiful river.  However, I miss my family and my friends that I left behind, in California.  There is a part of my heart is still in that warm and sunny place, and the ocean still runs in my veins.  

                

Today Aug. 6th, is Andy Warhol's birthday, so I thought it would be fun to dig out this old picture of my Campbell's Soup paper dress.  Yes, the dress was made out of paper, and I wore it for Halloween, in 1968.

Mom has always enjoyed finding fun things to buy, and Campbell's had a promotion selling the dress, and the bag I am holding.  I don't remember what I thought about it then, but now I wish I still had the dress, maybe it would be fun to frame and hang on the wall.

The 60's were a great time to be alive, and I feel sorry for any of you who missed them.  It seemed as if the world was coming alive, and doing so in living technicolor (except this picture).  I remember getting brightly colored clothes, dangling earrings, and for the first time in my life, my straight hair was in style, YES.
by Desiree Hedger

Walk in the Woods Ketchekan Alaska

The more I do, the more I can do, and the more I want to do!  The more I create, the more I can create, and the more I want to create.

I have a very bad habit, I want to do everything at once, but small steps are getting me much further along the road to where I want to be.
by Desiree Hedger

Folks, I'm scaring myself.  I fixed myself a very nutritious lunch, and I liked it.  I went out into my garden, and picked a big ripe tomato, and a few sweet basil leaves.  I cut the tomato in half, sprinkled on the chopped basil, a little bit of feta cheese and placed them in the broiler for a few minutes.  I added some avocado on crackers, and some cantaloupe. IT WAS GOOD!

 When I think about making changes in my life it is so easy to fall into the trap of making big changes.  Big changes just hurt my brain, and I don't get anywhere.  I am trying to make small changes, slow and easy, and I hope it works.  So far, so good.
By Desiree Hedger

I Take a Vacation and End Up at the Local Cemetery

By Desiree Hedger
Call me a ghoul, but I love graveyards.  Old graveyards, with huge ornate marble monuments, not those soulless new ones with those mower friendly flat stones.  I want to walk amongst cherubs, obelisks, mausoleums, and dinosaurs.  That's right, I said dinosaurs.  Recently when my equally ghoulish son and I visited the Greenhill Cemetery in Laramie, Wyoming,  I was surprised and delighted to find this grave with a simple handmade pyramid, and graced with a plastic dinosaur. 

Is this a grandchild's forgotten toy, or a playful tribute to someone's life?

The University of Wyoming now surrounds this beautiful cemetery in the heart of Laramie, and if you are mood for a nice stroll you can stop in at the office and pick up a booklet that will introduce you to some of the cemetery's more notable residents.  But, let's leave the upper crust for later and have a look at Bob.  The booklet "Welcome to Greenhill Cemetery," tell us that no one remembers who Bob was, but this simple cross tells part of the story.

 

It simply states, "BOB. CHARLIE LEFT YOU HERE  MAY.10.1894"











We spent a few minutes with Bob, but like Charlie, my son and I "left him there", and then we went to hold court with a local Madam Christy Grover.  Christy, found her way into the cemetery when according to the booklet she may have committed "suicide" with the help of her husband. 


While visiting with this notorious "soiled dove," I began looking around at some of her neighbors.  I spotted a grave with the name "Westbrook," and thought to myself, "I'm related to some "Westbrooks."  Sure enough a closer look let me know that I had found the graves of my own Great Aunt Midge and Uncle Lon.  We spent a few minutes "catching up," with Aunt Midge who lived to be 102 years old.  Way to go Aunt Midge.