OK true confessions time. I thought Denver was in the mountains. A mile high, after all. But no, it's near the mountains, and there are no foothills like we have in the south. Just flat prairie that runs right up to those magnificent Rockies.
Driving the 80 or so miles on the interstate to Fort Morgan, I thought, "OK, where the heck IS everything?" Nothing but wild sunflowers--with which I became quite enchanted--and sagebrush. Not all all what I expected. But I was headed for Colorado's barn quilt country, so I couldn't complain.
Nancy Lauck is a one-woman army, bringing over 100 barn quilts to Morgan County. That's us with 92 year old Harvey Achziger. It was a perfect day; for once I didn't bring rain, but as Nancy's husband, Bill, pointed out, this is really an irrigated section of desert, so there wasn't much chance. I learned a lot about water rights--a new farming subject for me.
Don't tell my orthopedist--who let me begin wearing shoes eight weeks after Achilles tendon surgery only after a solemn promise to walk only on pavement. Nevermind my standing one-footed on the edge of the car to get a photo with flowers in the foreground--check out the Facebook page for that one! Speaking of the ground, I stepped in a batch of sandspurs--ouch! (they call them burrs here). I thought they only grew in Florida and that I had escaped them when I moved north!
Nancy and I had a great day, though I got a bit worried when she said she was going to take me out to the "toolies." What the heck? After a bit of conversation, it became clear that she meant way out into nowhere--what many of use would call the boondocks.
This sign cracked me up--nothing like old fashioned farm humor. We needed a chuckle after such a long drive; the county is 36 by 36 miles!
I really craved this trip out into barn quilt world, as I muster the energy to complete this revision. This was the perfect trip. Add to that a real bath in a clawfoot tub and cool enough weather to sleep under quilts--it doesn't get much better.
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