Rituals are the fabric of life, don’t you think? Here, let me explain. I have that universally human curse of craving control over things that can’t possibly be controlled. Take, for instance, the weather (let’s not even open the can of words that is the current dismal state of the world). Last I checked, the weather doesn’t give a damn about what I want to wear that day or whether I’m ready for the season to change. 

So, if not control, then coping. What more are rituals than self-concocted antidotes to the unpredictability of each day? I have very little idea of where I’ll be or how our world will look in six months, but I do know this: in the morning I will rise, take the dog for a walk, make coffee and breakfast, read, then get ready while listening to a podcast. Noteworthy though this routine may not be, here is what cannot be underestimated: the comfort found in doing a series of things without thinking. With winter drawing nigh, I realized the other day the need for another simple routine to bookend the day. It could be anything, really, but tonight taking a walk, then fixing a cocktail, lighting candles, and sitting down with a novel for the length of a record felt absolutely soul-nourishing. Control over the looming of winter I have not, but an antidote I have.

In the evening we took a walk. It’d been warm enough to strip down to a t-shirt in the thick of the day, but then the sky grew dark with wildfire smoke. I didn’t know until recently the bone-chilling feeling of a landscape shrouded in an angry, ashy plume. The light was fast-fading and we stepped outside with the dog, buttery orange leaves all in a fluster. Many of our neighbors have tacked up Halloween lights (think Christmas lights but in colors far more garish), and the sidewalks were flushed with the bulbs’ eerie, shimmering hue. With every step the cushion of leaves seemed to grow thicker underfoot. We were out in that small sliver of twilight when it’s dark enough to click on a lamp but light enough to leave open the blinds. You, a passerby on the sidewalk, are privileged to a delicious glimpse of all the little things your neighbors do to pass the time. Jacob says I’m creepy, but I firmly place myself in the category of Miranda July: “All I ever really want to know is how other people are making it through life—where do they put their body, hour by hour, and how do they cope inside of it.” Then the wind picked up and we scurried home, closed the blinds, and devised our own way to pass the time.*

*ramen and Stranger Things, of course, what else were you thinking?

Winter is hard. Winter during a pandemic and wildfires is harder (although this article might just change your life a little bit—it did mine). In an effort to a) improve my quality of life these waning days and b) start writing more often, I’m giving myself a challenge to look everyday for delightful things and write about them. After all, joy is the best form of resistance. Welcome back.

Have you ever been to Telluride, the mystical land of blue-tinged jagged mountains, well-dressed yuppies, and thundering waterfalls? The formidable place was carved out by scrappy gold and silver miners in the 19th century and, over time, was polished into the cool and funky town it is today. Telluride isn’t an easy destination, no on-the-way pit stop, or a town to pass through. No, it takes intention to visit, and there is nothing more rewarding than following windy Highway 145 as it drops down the mountain passes and deposits you neatly into the breathtaking valley.

Regardless of how many times I visit, Telluride never gets old, and spending Labor Day camping at nearby Alta Lakes was no exception. There’s no better respite from the everyday hustle and bustle than taking full advantage of everything nature at 11,300 mountainous feet has to offer: sweeping vistas, campfire games, ruddy cheeks from running in the cold to catch the sunset, cozy nights in a flannel-lined sleeping bag, clean-smelling evergreens, achy muscles from mountain climbing, extra good-tasting food, tired pups, and tan skin. Here it is only early December and I’m already missing summer!

Enjoy these shots from our long weekend (all taken on 35mm film with a pentax k1000).

Husband and Indie-bear on Telluride's bustling main street

Leaving the beloved valley

Setting up camp in the perfect spot for eight people and three dogs

Hilary capturing the serene views

Kelsey, Rylan, and Aspen exploring Telluride

Unbeknownst to us, we arrived during Telluride Film Festival with the likes of Emma Stone and Christian Bale; Indigo was unimpressed

One last trip in our beloved jeep

Evening light hitting my sweet jcub just right

Sunset views from camp

Mid-hike rest

Marie, Hilary, and Kelsey soaking it all in

Incredible textures and colors of upper Alta Lake

The crew on top of Bald Mountain

Hava surveying her kingdom with a little help from Kelsey