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Farewell to a great American storyteller

I typically take this space to write about my walks with Olive, my blind dog, and we have been walking, though we haven’t stopped at the dog park. We walk around it these days. I have done okay adjusting. I have more than enough work to keep me busy and, when I have a minute, I bake something. Baking is therapy in my book. I feel better when I have made something that my family can eat. Still, this space is not devoted to walks or baking this time. I want to take a minute to remember John Prine.

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Books are for reading, not eating–and there are books to be found in Lyons

Lyons is a book town for sure. I think the first tiny library I noticed on our walks was the one outside Lyons Valley Village. I can’t pass it without taking a glance inside. When I started walking with my friend up Old St. Vrain Road, I found one there and once, just after getting a new sewing machine for Christmas. Stashed in the library was a book on sewing. The newest addition to the Little Free Libraries that Olive and I pass frequently is the one by the Rocky Mountain Botanic Gardens, which houses books largely focused on gardening and the outdoors.

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Dispatches from Button Rock

We went to Button Rock Preserve Sunday afternoon–my husband, Jay, and I and, of course, Olive, our Chesapeake Bay and Labrador retriever mix puppy. We were starting to get into our regular Sunday routine of sitting around and prepping for the start of a busy week. Jay mentioned on a whim that we should go on a hike. I thought of all the work I had with the classes I teach starting and all, but I stopped myself. Olive needed a walk, and Jay and I needed some time to hang out together.

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One last long walk for old Butch

I had intended to use this column space to write about Olive’s first hike at Button Rock Preserve, but that will have to wait until a later date for now. There was another walk, which in and of itself would have been nothing special. It was yet another trip to the dog park, but unlike the many I have taken with Olive over the past several months where we’ve walked from our front door through Bohn Park to the double gates, this trip was one we had to take by car because old Butch had to go just one more time.

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A walk to the park with Olive

I woke up early as I tend to do these days. An inch or so of wet snow covered the ground. We were restless, Olive the blind dog and I–though she more than I. I am inclined to skip walks on days like this, but there is only so much energy her seven-month-old body can contain. She was starting to turn on the old mutt Butch after so many days of little more than brief walks to do her business. 

Butch, for his part, was having none of it. At 14, he was used to quiet afternoons of long naps and making his twice-daily leisurely walks around LaVern M. Johnson Park. Then Olive arrived–boundless tail wagging Olive with all the shenanigans puppies bring. I realized the only way to give old Butch a break was to take Olive on long walks.