The weather outside was frightful, but the walk was so delightful, let it snow, let it snow, let it snow! This below sea level, above 50 degrees, Galvestonian was fascinated with the winter wonderland that was Golden. Matt and Ika’s home is a short walk (if you’re a Swede:) to downtown, so I just had to do it. Golden is a smallish city near Denver, like Galveston is to Houston. In fact, it reminds me of Galveston in the mountains. There is a bricked main street for shopping, Washington Avenue. The people of Golden are very proud of their city, much as we Galvestonians are. Many volunteer at the art center, the library, and the nature center; just to name a few. One main difference, of course, is the prolific “CBD oil” business. Definitely a town where “old hippies” retire, among other things.
The Golden Art Center is an uphill, somewhat icy, climb from downtown, but so worth the effort. It appears to have been a church at one time, adding to the spiritual ambience of the local art displayed. My favorite display was a room filled with art from the youth of Golden. Several pieces caught my eye, created by elementary and high school kids during the summer art camp. The pink pig, imaginatively named “when pigs fly” and the lovely gold medallion named “fish in a bowl” were hands-down favorites. I kind of wished the medallion was offered for sale. What a beautiful souvenir!
While the Mother Cabrini Shrine was not walking distance, it was just on the backside of Lookout Mountain, as seen from Matt and Ika’s place. Being born and raised Catholic, I had to visit this historic shrine Sunday morning. The drive up was exciting in itself, quite an elevation to climb on the old “switchback” road. Mass, said by Father Bob, brought the gospel to a relevant place in our lives. The church, set into the backside of Lookout, provided a view of the valley that was spiritually uplifting to one of any faith. After the experience, I told the kids that I could imagine driving in from Winter Park on Sundays to meet with them for mass and lunch on Sundays. They agreed it would be a special family tradition. Of course, first I have to acquire a ski lodge in Winter Park. That’s the plan!
Another family tradition will be the annual spring-break ski trip. Matt and I spent the day on Breckenridge where I learned at my old age, I was going to have to wear a helmet and face mask. These things are foreign to me, as in the past helmets were not common, and I generally skied in warmer weather. The day remained in the high teens, so Matt insisted that I needed face and head protection. First trip to the top, and I was very grateful for that advice. The little exposed skin I had was “freezer burned”. At least it felt that way:) Not too old to learn new tricks, yet anyway.
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