Saisons

Learning to watch which direction the clouds take...

That's right, I'm throwing French at you now.  The title ("seasons") is one of the very few words I know in that beautiful language, and only because of delicious Belgian beer styles.

I've been mesmerized again by the changing of the seasons here, largely because I'd seen two winters in this part of the country before finally catching another season, due to the timing of my deployment overseas.  I think another reason is that seasons only momentarily grab your interest in a place like New York, because let's face it -- concrete & asphalt don't change color all that much.  In Colorado, it's a different story.  Ironically, locals and longtime residents often complain that there is no Spring or Fall, but trust me on this -- there certainly is.  Now eastern North Carolina?  That place has no seasons beyond Summer and Not-Summer, as I called them.

This could be any season from Hogsback Ridge...

Printemps (Spring)

Flowering trees all over Boulder

Tulip beds on Pearl Street

As you can see, there is Spring...

And yes, it makes the Flatirons sing.

(gagging now at my choice of words)

Eté (Summer)

Green everywhere...

Boulder Creek = one sweet Summer spot

The Spring rains of '11 left Irish hills all Summer

Flatirons hikes are even better in July

Dana the reptile would have it this hot all year

 Automne (Autumn)

Fall colors framing Georgetown, CO

Thanksgiving cornucopia at Brainard Lakes

Brilliant reds...before the snow

Hiver (Winter)

Scenes that make Colorado famous...Copper Mountain

Wintry sunset, early March

Even in Winter, a city of abundant art.

Perfection.

City of Transplants

It may be common knowledge to those living in Colorado's front range, but for those unfamiliar with the phenonemon, everyone in Boulder is a transplant.  Okay, not everyone, but damn close to it (and I say this as someone who actually knows rare born & raised boulderites).  Still, a few recent gatherings here reminded me of how funny it is to have conversations so often about (A) where everyone is actually from, and of course (B) how great it is to be here.

Bodie is a native...I think.

Example: the initial meeting/party of the Boulder Sport & Social Club's Fall season.  Six of us who signed up to play either floor hockey or ultimate frisbee (or in my case, both) have the typical conversation.  And it turns out that our origins represent the states of Utah, North Carolina, California, Connecticut, Oregon/Texas and New Jersey.  The only surprise might be that for once the upper midwest wasn't represented.  I meet an inordinate number of Michigan, Illinois, Wisconsin & Minnesota folk here too.  This chapter's director, though, turns out to be an actual Coloradan.

Just a few transplants happy to be here. 

I find that local feelings on this phenomenon range from the welcoming to the hostile...which is sometimes understandable, as the roads get clogged more often and open space is 'claimed' by new development.  Still, there are those who dig the variety of experiences we transplants have brought along (this town's population has to be among the most well-traveled I've ever seen), and there are those who affix "NATIVE" stickers to their SUVs in order to remind us that they are from here.

It's a slap in the face, see?  It means that this vehicle's driver is here by birthright, and you're not.  So naturally this trend gave rise to a whole slew of variations and responses, all set to the same Colorado license plate design of the Rocky Mountains backdrop.

One of the most popular: NOT A NATIVE, BUT I GOT HERE AS FAST AS I COULD

There is also the first one I ever saw, a favorite of mine: NOBODY CARES YOU'RE A NATIVE

But only recently did I see this take on it, the best one yet: XENOPHOBE


So take that, snobs!  It would be cool if we could all just get along, you know...the way we usually actually do when we meet in person instead of conducting verbal warfare by sticker slogan.  I vote for the bumper fanatics to try this one instead...