Denver Bluegrass

The Midwinter Bluegrass Festival performances were good, better, and best. I had figured it out that it was not crucial to make the early performers so I left Saturday morning and still got a good seat upon arriving at 2:00 p.m. Kenny and Amanda Smith were a great harmony as I knew from hearing them on radio, but I didn't know what a fantastic flat picking guitarist he was. My favorite was Claire Lynch. She played a great rendition of a song about a battle in the Civil War where the two sides were withing shouting distance of each other and took turns singing songs to each other the night before battle. It reminded me of the factions at Silvia and Jaume's wedding competing in nationalistic songs. It ended with the melody of Be it Ever So Humble, There's No Place Light Home.

The next day I loaded up our big cooler with beer and wine at Applejack's. Had a Salmon Benedict in Louisville at the Blueberry Cafe. Spent an afternoon with a realtor in Fort Collins that had a staccato cackle with a little trill at the end. I drove a red BMW loaner around while ours was getting a new high pressure fuel pump (a recall item) and reprogramming. It took all day. They had just washed it when I picked it up at 5:30. It looked so good I decided to drive home and park it in the garage before the next storm blew in. The roads were clear until Glenrock where I saw from miles away three state patrol cars lighting up the night on a grade with black ice and crosswinds and cars in the ditch. I followed a trucker at 50 mph the rest of the way into Casper.

Called up brother Don to see if he wanted to meet in Denver during his theology course but his schedule is too tight. On the other hand our friends in Borrego Springs are saying "Come On Down!". Time is a precious commodity in retirement.