Arriving in Parker at our friend Andree’s house after a long drive from Arapahoe, Nebraska through a downpour, we picked up our other friend, Raina, at the Denver airport. She left Washington, DC, circled for an hour and a half over Denver, then diverted to Scott’s Bluff, Nebraska and sat on the runway for an hour, over three hours later than her original time. The advantage was, we were able to pick Raina up at the airport at the exact moment we pulled into arrival and she came out of the terminal.

Andree and Raina were friends we made in Cuba on our photography tour and are fabulous photographers. We have been getting together off and on since 2016 in different places. Last year we were to come here, but due to Covid, here we are this year.

Three filled days with the Cherry Creek Juried Art festival, a graffiti tour, tea at the Tajikistan tea house, dinner with friends, and meeting up with Derek, his family and Mike, and his family, both friends of McKee’s. Oh and for sure ice cream at Bonnie Brae Ice Cream stand.

The highlight of the trip besides spending time with our friends was the graffiti tour. This area of Denver is called Rino and it has pink Rinos all over the place. We met our tour guide, Nick, at what seemed like a random street. He quickly explained his did this tour on week-ends and summers but taught high school on a regular basis. He began by saying we were free to take pictures, catch up if we fell behind, and since he taught high school he would understand if we did not pay attention or asked stupid questions. This was perfect for someone with an attention deficiency like me.

I think I will let my pictures speak for themselves, although I cannot help to add my first impressions. For someone like me who adores color and is called a colorist, this place was like a candy store. Large painted faces, scary skeletons, humorous characters, words that I could not understand and words I could. Some of the graffiti is permanent and others get painted over every year. This was called the Crush Festival, a juried show every year until this year. Here is what is said about the festive:

For over a decade, CRUSH Walls, the largest annual street art and mural festival in Colorado, has colored the walls of the RiNo Art District. It’s provided opportunities for both local and international street artists, often giving up-and-coming artists the exposure that helped jumpstart their careers. It’s helped turn the art district into a tourist destination, attracting visitors from Denver and beyond to check out the murals left behind long after the festival ends.

It has also long been the subject of criticism. Some have called the festival out for its lack of diversity, or for the role they say it’s played in gentrification in Five Points. And last year, women came forward with sexual assault and abuse allegations against the festival’s founder, Robin Munro. So, Robin Munro has cancelled the festival. It remains to be seen whether someone else will take up the mantel.

Another fact which I found disturbing, women have a hard time breaking into the graffiti world and are poorly represented. Because woman had a hard time getting accepted to this festival they started another one in another area of Denver. Another fact we learned about graffiti artists is: 

“Street art, like traditional art forms, is automatically protected by copyright law. Even when street art is created with the purpose of being readily reproduced, intellectual property law does not treat it differently from other art forms.”

My question to Nick was; if you take pictures where is the boundary for reproduction  by others. Apparently, you have to tag the artist and can use it as long as you are not making money off of it. So, to the pictures:

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After a second day of exploring the Vesterheim museum where we looked for the chest Shap’s mother donated, (instead of the check I mentioned in my last blog), we got up on Thursday morning and headed toward our destination Araphahoe, Nebraska toward Denver for the 3^rd.  Our plan was to stay on Route 6, taking Route 80 only if we needed to make up time. We left Wildberry Vineyard after filling up with water, and talking to the owner for several minutes. She apologized for not spending more time with us, as the grapes were in need of harvesting and help was scarce. There was no need, as everyone working at the vineyard was so friendly. I would put this down as a 4-star rating.

Miles of cornfields, windmills, grain bins, railroad crossing, small town America and the occasional train, pulling mile long containers to places unknown, marked our progress on this marathon eight-hour drive. We rated the farmers for creativity by how they planted their fields. The most artistic being the undulating cornfields.

What is it about hours on a straight road that allows your attention to wander to the landscape, to remanence of your life gone by, opportunities you could have taken, paths you are glad you didn’t, old friends and lovers, but most of all, your family you hold so dear Time is always fleeting. How did I get to the last quarter of my life so fast?

I set up dates with McKee’s friends from high school and college, to meet in Denver, and give them hugs. Shap says, I have always been the mother hen. I think is it my privilege to know they want to see me, and for me to have them in my life.  My Dad always said to make friends with young people, it will keep you young. I think of him sitting on the stairs in our house after our wedding with his arm around Steve, McKee’s buddy, hugging him and saying what a great guy Steve was. But even better was to see Steve beaming and giving hugs back, not something Steve did often. Dad brought the best and worst out of people. He could be tough, but he always loved being with my friends and his grandkids friends.  And here I am following in his footsteps, meeting “my kids” as I call them and making friends with Matilda and Tallulah’s friends, wishing that life would continue so I could be with them always.

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Today Sept 3^rd, we are sitting in our fly ridden van next to a barn, fields of corn and alpacas.We drove in the dark at 10 pm. down a long country road following our Google maps, (thank God for them) and wondering how we would have found this place otherwise. Suddenly on the side of the road was movement and a large (I think) Bard owl landed in front of our headlights. He turned his head staring directly at us, as if to say we were intruding on his road, and then flew with his great wing span into the cornfields for a night of hunting. A moment in time, a chance in a million, a glimpse into nightlife, so precious, so spiritual, a message from the universe. “You are here, at this time, in this place, this is a gift given only to the two of you, take it and carry it in your heart.” For all the hate that is happening in this world,  for all the rights being taken away from women, for all the racial injustice, for all the immigrants fleeing for their lives, we here in the middle of Nebraska sat on a country road and were handed a gift, a chance visit to remind us, we need to sit back and observe and then act with love and compassion. The owl sits on the road in our headlights, trusting that we will not hurt him. And we would not. But what about others? There are too many who would. Can they step back and observe?

Now this morning the Alpacas roam the Nebraska fields, the corn sways in the breeze, the sun is rising, painting the tops of the corn with a golden light and I am grateful for this day, for my husband who is a willing and loving partner and to be in a country free where there is water, shelter, and a safe place to sleep, or at least for most of us.

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What are we doing in a place like Decorah, you might ask. Here is the home of the Vesterheim Museum, The National Norwegian-American Museum and Heritage Center. Shap’s mother donated a 14th century tapestry of the Great Holy Kings coming from Saba” and a carved wooden chest and we were here to find out where it was.

Waking up in a winery is interesting or at least this one. Basically we were in someone’s backyard next to an old barn, a house and a building where there were tours, and tastings. Since the winery did not open until 11 we took our time having breakfast and coffee, checking up on our mail and relaxing. This is exactly what I wanted, a field, a lovely setting, quiet (except for the garbage truck at 4:30 AM), birds singing, rabbits hopping around, flower gardens, and no one around. Harvest Host I love you.

Wanting to get out and take pictures I left the van and strolled over to the winery building where upon I noticed it was open. Stepping in I found a large room with wines settling in wine kegs, every available wine gee gog imaginable and a friendly woman behind a counter full of fresh pies. I found out there are 20 acres of vineyards and almost equal amount of rhubarb. What anyone wants to do with that much rhubarb I could not tell you except many of the wine descriptions included rhubarb as an ingredient. So guess that is what you do with 20 acres of rhubarb. I checked in and found our incredible grassy site costs us the grand total of $7 a night plus $3 for a water fill up. What? $24 dollars for three nights in a vineyard, are you kidding? Highway robbery ! I could not believe I had endured two nights of sleeping in basically a parking lot surrounded by Class A RV for $80+ a night when I could have all of this and I was charged so little I could felt guilty. We will be stocking up on wine to give away on our trip.

Meanwhile, out to the Vineyards for pictures… Except we had to do it:

Of course we had to do it.

The grapes were ripe and hanging off the vines. I am still getting used to my new camera so frustration runs high. And then I thought, why am I rushing, I have two days here so I could take my time and play with the camera. The results were good;my macro lens was so good I found a knock off lady bug known as the Asian beetle and some very juicy grapes.

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Gathering our things together we drove into Decorah, a wide Main Street with a Norwegian vibe. Ducking in from the rain to buy an umbrella at the local drugstore, what else would we find, but several Norwegian children’s books from Shap’s past. Perfect to buy for the grandgirls. Farther down the street a knitting store with plenty of Norwegian patterned knitting books and volumes of yarn, definitely better than a candy store for me.

Then to the Vesterheim Museum, where waving Norsk flags hung from street poles showing us the way. Stepping into the museum you knew instantly that this was a great museum that showcased the history of the Norwegians immigration to America. But even more interesting to me, was the history of the folk art with modern day replicas of the artifacts brought from Norway.

We happened to time our visit right at the start of a tour of the buildings outside the museum depicting houses brought from Norway or built in the same design. Storehouses, an old mill, a school and a Lutheran church were all brought to the site. Our guide, a very attractive lady in her seventies obviously of Norwegian descent, toured us around giving us an amazing history of the various people who settled the area and their homes. Many of the artifacts were donated by Norwegians over the years and are displayed in the various houses. After almost two hours we figured we should head for the inside as the museum closes at 4 and it was now 3:00. Needless to say we did not finish it and are headed back tomorrow.

But where is the tapestry and the check that Sylvea Bull Curtis donated? Not on display but in the archives. Too bad as they are beautiful examples but it is good to know they are catalogued and being safely stored.

However, look who we found in the stairwell? Ah yes, who else but Ole Bull.

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Meanwhile back in the vineyard watching the sun set, the grasses glowing and our van settled in for the night I leave you with some of the lingering day slowly turning to dusk.

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THE LONG AND STRAIGHT COUNTRY ROAD

Route 6 from Sundusky to Decorah, Iowa is one straight highway with long stretches in between small four way road stops. If one was running out of gas this is not the road you will find gas stations easily. We left Sandusky behind with our destination Decorah, Iowa 10 hours away. Cruising along we passed planted cornfields touched by an artists hand, curving in gracious waves, accented by a strip of green field in between. A river of corn, undulating over rolling hills with only the clouds and sky for backdrop. While on the other side of the road the soybean crops with their stubby stocks and dark green leaves quietly waved to us asking us to notice their beauty. While the corn marched steadily across the landscape in military regiment rows according to the artists design, the soybeans touched one another, creating a blanket of green on the fields and occasionally adding depth to a farmhouse yard.

Irrigation machines stood like foreign predators on top of the crops bringing water to nourish them. The grain silos stood tall in the distance with their metal tubes connecting like spider legs to a tiny body pregnant with the mixtures of grain, releasing them like a giant breath to the mother silo. And this scene goes on and on for mile after mile while we sit and drink in the vastness of our country.

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Soon it is time to get on the great American highways to make some time, bypass Chicago and head westward. Here is America on the go with enormous trucks squeezing you. leaning dangerously toward you, then spitting you out as they leave you behind. Blocking out the sound, we chose “The Great Railroad Bazaar” by PaulTheroux and reminisced of our train rides through Russia, Peru and our travels through India. After a long while, we found Route 20 and again found the quiet of a country road and the beauty of the sunset as we road through Illinois, Wisconsin and finally Iowa.

Darkness and the voice of Paul Theroux propelled us onward to Decorah and our new camping experience found on Harvest Hosts. We called ahead to Winneshiek Wildberry Winery to make sure we could arrive late at night. A pleasant woman told us to come ahead and park on the right. Did I not say that I wanted to find the places I imagined ? We did. Arriving in the dark, with no idea exactly where we were, we pulled into a farmyard, that even in the dark we could tell there were no grapevines. Pulling out quickly (as if a large red van could be discreet),we put the address into my phone again and discovered it was next door. As we drove in the drive, the vineyards were illuminated in our headlights along with several barns and houses and an electrical box. We quickly plugged in, set up the bed and went to sleep, both of us road weary.