After I finished taking these photos, I walked back to the car and he did that thing where he guns it and takes off. I patiently catch up on foot and he guns it again. We did this at least four times.
Yesterday we drove down the valley to Telluride. My dad calls it 'to-hell-you-ride' and has wanted to move here for the last 20 years. Every time we visit he collects a stack of real estate listings to take home and pore over.
I am in love with this mountain town. There are amazing restaurants, old cowboys, chic galleries, and good-looking hippies. A dramatic storm rolled in when we arrived but WE TOOK THE GONDOLA RIDE ANYWAY. It was beautiful. We stayed far too late at an old dark saloon called the New Sheridan and I got tipsy on thin mountain air and wine.
We packed a big picnic and grilled corn on the cob. Our site was sandwiched between a big lake and a rushing creek. I mean, come on.
Yes. I went from New York City to a ranch in Colorado and I'm currently experiencing some sort of bizarre culture shock.
My grandparents have this great house at the base of the Grand Mesa and the views are incredible. I spent my first day reading, eating apricots, and staring out at all that sky. As the sun was going down a big thunderstorm rolled in.
HAVE YOU EVER BEEN TO THE NEW YORK BOTANICAL GARDENS? Mama was in heaven. We covered the placards and quizzed her. On the money every time.
The gardens stretch across 250 acres. Endless quiet lawns, shady promenades, century-old trees, and lady gardens to die for.