Bonus Week at The Cliff

The photographer.

 

Finally finished.

 

 

 

 

 

Aspen leaves decorating the conifers.

 

 Amy's leaf study.

Warm sun;

Cool, crisp, clean air.

Quiet.

Seclusion.

Beauty. 

 

 "Jan was in an accident," Amy says around 6 on Tuesday.

"About 35 minutes ago."

Totaled the car -

for the third time -

twice in Utah; once in Missouri.

Shook us up.

How about you, Jan?

Whiplash; bumps and bruises.

It always hurts more than you think it's going to.

 Luxury condo.

Three nice rooms.

Each evening we watched a movie.

After we watched 2012,

Ed was afraid he would have nightmares.

As we turned out the lights,

he mused,

"I'm thankful it's 2013."

 DeRay up at 6 each morning 

to work on computer

just as he does at home.

Amy drove down to teach each day.

 Yes!  A jetted hot tub on our deck.

 

 Ed's bed.

Hey, that rhymes.

 Usual chores.

 Keeping up with the outside world.

 DJ

 Amy's private room.

 The View.
We had to leave all this the first morning.
Nearly as soon as we got there,
I realized I had forgotten my thyroid medication.
"Lucky we're not at Tahoe,"
quipped Amy.
DeRay thought we could drive down the canyon to Smiths
however, she never orders refills
because, so far,
she's had to prescribe a stronger dosage each time.
Cuckoo.  Cuckoo.
DeRay had spent over three hours the day we left
trying to get more insulin;
then he found a full vial
in his suitcase when he was unpacking.

Cuckoo.  Cuckoo.

 

This was our Workout Week.

DeRay and Ed went to Judy's Water Workout at Iron Blosam each morning.
Several times, Ed and I walked from The Cliff to Iron Blosam.

He can clip right along when he's trying to get to a movie on time.
We did 1-1/2 hour Yoga classes whenever they were held.

Hikes each day.

Swim, Jacuzzi, Steam Room.

Solarium.

My knees are on fire.

They wake me up in protest.

I don't know if its better to work them

to keep the blood circulating

or if it wears them out.

Too many downdogs?

Too much hiking?

Too old?

 

 I like the windows at The Cliff.

 DeRay went to the pastel painting class again.

This time, he painted the view from our window.

 

 Soon it was time to go home,

where to our delight,
 color was bursting out all over.

Cycling around the neighborhood.

"You look so great,"

x-Bishop Lyman said to me as he shook my hand after church.

"It must be all that cycling you do."

We haven't been in the ward with him for 25 years,

but we do pass his house each day on our "route".

As we walked to Elizabeth Passey's funeral the day before,

Donna Jones, riding her bike,

called out "Hi" and then,

"You look so pretty."

Donna Jones?  Mrs. Perfection.

I'm not used to compliments.

They floored me.

Amy said it was because I just spent a week at Snowbird.

 I can never remember a year

when there were so many colors on one tree.

 Election time in Fruit Heights.

 Fruit orchard.

Didn't you have a friend who owned this orchard, Brent?

 Ed riding the cul-de-sac

 while Dad puts the garden to bed.

"I love the seasons,"

Ed says, as the wild wind

ushers in a cold front and storm.

"I do too.

It's nice to have four seasons."

"Except for the heat and the cold.

Especially the cold,"

he illuminates.
Personally