Tales from Sangre de Cristo

Zeke is the oldest of the 1st munchkin clan and is proficient with a BB gun. Poppy takes care of her younger sisters and does most of the talking. Fiona is shy and has piercing eyes. The youngest I’ve presently forgotten the name of. The girls have toys but prefer to play with dirt and in the dirt. There is a sand volleyball area, but they prefer the dirt. They are happy to see Henry and hope for a toto of their own one day.
The amish horses parade by twice a day and Henry howls as if the world is coming to an end. “An animal bigger than myself!”, he thinks, “what is this sorcery.” And perhaps “will it play with me?”
The corgi’s run in packs and alert of the first morning traffic only moments after the roosters themselves begin crowing.
An indoor basketball court is just a short walk away. A game I so loved as a child, but gave up as height and ability dictated. Playing again for the first time in years has been a fun distraction from parsing Greek verbs.
The orange feather I found has been positively identified as a Scarlet Tanager.
We have chapel on Sundays, and a student led service and sermon on Wednesdays. The “exegetical” preaching I’ve found to be far more interesting than the Lutheran “preach only the Law and Gospel” type sermons.
I’ve got 3 or 4 people reviewing my rough draft of the book I am writing; the Biography of Gordon Clark. I hope to hear from them soon and start making corrections. (or possibly starting all over!) I really want to have this book in excellent shape before I show it to Lois, one of Gordon’s two daughters and our Seminary librarian.
A drive out of the seminary starts with a 2.0 mile downhill coast. (I know, I checked on my odometer) The coast, descending about 1000 ft, would continue even further if not for the necessity of stopping at the stop sign. The town of Westcliffe itself, about 10 miles away, has only stop signs and no traffic lights. The seminary has few lights of any kind and it is necessary to carry your own flashlight for late-night returns.
The library in town has no need for workers. Neither does the “Take a Hike” store where I picked up my detailed map of the trails of the Sangre de Cristo range. The next stop on my quest for part time work (needed for sanity more than money) is the Alpine Lodge, a higher end restaurant which was closed the last time I visited. I’d like to be a bartender there. A seminary bartender. Chosen for the peculiar combination as much as the lack of other options. I’ve never been one for normalcy.