4th of July Colorado-style

In celebration of Jefferson's rousing prose, Antonia, Jonah and I headed northwest toward our grand river's genesis. We ended up at a picturesque place called Shaw Lake where our fireworks consisted of a lightning show within approximately three miles of us as the crow flies... and the thunder cries. We watched the sky morph into an Ansel Adams photograph, tightly crossing our fingers, arms and legs in hopes that we could get it to look angrily beautiful somewhere in southeast CHINA instead of the San Juan mountains of Colorado. Alas, the sky wanted to look angrily beautiful right over our heads. Moments later my makeshift barbecue turned into a sloppy, smoking stew of charcoal and rain. Nothing says the party's over like wet charcoal. So it was time to quit tempting the lightning gods and head for cover. The kids were disappointed that they didn't catch any fish. I, on the other hand, am always thankful for our bad fishing juju. And ALWAYS ALWAYS will be. At least until I can figure out how to make our catch magically go from being caught to being cooked.

Despite the fruitless fishing and drippy skies, I thought the trip was anything but wasted. The air was SO sparkly fresh I'm convinced it de-aged my skin by about 6.5 years. And my nostrils have never been so happy to rediscover the simple joy of inhaling.

"Mom, let's move out here," Antonia said.

"Let's."

"We alweady live in CawlaWADo," Jonah informed us.

"Yeah, but we don't live near the WATER," Antonia retorted.

Apparently, that river flowing on the other side of our street is a sewer drain or something. Which left me wondering... what the hell is it by the time it reaches Brownsville, Texas??

Photos courtesy of Jonah

Beautiful.

Gorgeous.

Wish you were here.

Hard to believe she's gonna be dripping wet in about ten minutes.

As will this.

Along with this shady lady.