My Favorite Farm Day... So Far

Along with the warm days and green grass of summer comes one of the best parts of living in the foothills: visitors. A few weeks ago we had an open house cookout, but the real rush of visitors began this week with the arrival of my niece and her roommate. I was able to take the day off yesterday to spend a little time with them in what turned out to be a great little farm day and a wonderful outing.

The day began at 4:45 a.m., when my boyfriend, Salt, got up for work. The sky was just grey with light, but I knew I had a lot of chores to get done and he would appreciate a little relief from the regular Monday morning rituals. So, I leapt from bed to let the dogs out and start the coffee. When the dogs came in, I gave them their medications and breakfast. Then, I went downstairs to feed the cat and the fish. I cleaned out the cat box, then headed out to the garage to feed the chickens in their new home.

After I waved goodbye to Salt, I made the bed and hauled the trash and recycling down to the gate. A bright golden sun had just risen over the horizon. It was a pretty day. We’d had a rainstorm the night before, so I had the garden covered with shade cloth to protect it from hail. With such a promising sunrise, and the next storm not due until evening, I tied back the shade cloths to give the garden full sun. Then I went out to the chicken coop to check how it was drying after the thorough cleaning it had had the day before.

Back in the house, I decided to make chilaquiles and eggs for breakfast.  I already had some homemade red chili on hand, but I wanted to make the corn chips. I’ve rolled my own tortillas before, but I cheated on this day and deep fried a batch of store bought tortillas. I chopped the onions and was finishing the prep work when my niece appeared upstairs. We talked while I cleaned up the chilaquiles prep work, and then went back to bed.

With the chilaquiles prep work done, I started making combined the ingredients for granola and popped that in the oven while I waited for the girls. I double checked the weather and made reservations for a horseback ride in Garden of the Gods, scheduling a time a few hours before the afternoon rainstorm was expected.

When both girls were up, I put together the chilaquilas, popped them in the broiler, and fried some eggs to top. Then we dug in. It was wonderful.  I used the recipe from Bon Appetit magazine  (http://www.bonappetit.com/recipe/chilaquiles-with-fried-eggs), but I added some black beans, bumped up the green onions and skipped the radishes.

After breakfast, we got ourselves dressed and jumped into the car for a trip to Manitou Springs for horseback riding and shopping. The girls were already hungry by the time we got to Manitou, so we popped in a diner for a few minutes. Afterwards we dug through a thrift shop until it was time to go to the stable. 

The stable is situated in an unassuming corner of town, surrounded by small houses, trailer parks, motels, and other high density housing units. It’s impossible to imagine that a place as striking as Garden of the Gods is hiding behind this transitional sprawl until one actually sees it. The corral and its outbuildings were set in a ravine surrounded by trees. The horses would carry us out of this and through a residential area before we entered we climbed up again to the park where we would see it’s famous red rock formations for the first time.

As we were climbing into our saddles, we saw storm clouds approaching. In Colorado, it’s impossible to say if clouds will just roll straight through without letting go of a drop or if they will unleash torrential rain. Colorado storms – and ominous pretenders -- are usually followed shortly by the most glorious clear skies and sunshine. Midwesterners are used to temperamental weather and have a saying, “If you don’t like the weather, wait five minutes.” Colorado weather takes this to a higher level of fickleness. I often say of Colorado, “If you don’t like the weather, cross the street.”  I have seen it rain, hail, and snow across the street. I’ve crossed the street and felt the temperature drop ten degrees, just because it was in the shade. Few here change their plans on the possibility of bad weather, which is probably how so many get stuck on mountains in sudden storms. We low landers shake our heads at the idiocy of someone who would climb a mountain when he knows bad weather might be coming, but having seen Colorado’s weather make false threats before we probably would have made the same decision. Naturally, we rode out toward the park and the clouds.

I was on the rear-most horse, Cash, and had been told that he was inclined to be slow. He certainly did drop back and occasionally needed some nudging along, but he obeyed the reins very well. The climb up to the park was a little unsteady, but soon we were on the soft sand of Garden of the Gods looking out at the Sleeping Giant rock formation. The red rocks stood out strikingly against the shale colored sky. We made our way down and through the park with lightening striking. The guide was pointing out features and telling the history of the park. Most of us were enjoying the lightening display in the distance and trying to keep our horses from stripping every tree in sight.

At exactly the half-way point of the ride, when we were just entering the return side of the loop, the first huge drops of water fell on us. Splat! Splat! Splat! Impressively the horses didn’t react to the rain or the thunder, except by speeding up. Cash caught up to my niece’s horse, Joker, and practically planted his face in Joker’s rear. I reined him in, but couldn’t really tell the result because the sky suddenly let loose a torrential downpour. Fat drops of rain were indistinguishable as they pelted my face. I lowered my head to keep the rain out of my eyes. Cash continued his steady – if faster—pace. I was thinking this must be what it is like in westerns when they are out in the driving rain looking for a lost calf, when I realized the guide was still up ahead pointing out rock formations. I truly admire her fortitude even now, but not one of us was looking up for the next three minutes of the ride. She admirably shouted brightly Kissing Camels and the rain cloud obscured Pike’s Peak. We couldn’t see a thing.

It was only a few minutes before the rain let up enough that we could lift our heads. The rain kept falling and the tour kept going, because we were now on the return trip to the stables. We were drenched. There was a slight breeze that was chilling us through our clothes. My hands were so cold, I was losing feeling, but Cash was making me work because he kept encroaching on Joker. Eventually, Joker kicked him, and Cash got a little easier to rein in. We were all in a hurry to get home.

After the ride we exited through the little shop where they sell the pictures taken on the ride. We weren’t interested in pictures, but we were interested in standing under the blowing heater for a few minutes, where we hatched a plan to buy some clothes.

I wheeled us down the street to the beginning of Manitou Springs’ shopping district, while we assessed our situation. We needed dry clothes, warmth, food, and bathrooms. After parking the car, we marched quickly down the street to the first clothing shop, where they were selling souvenir t-shirts and pajama bottoms. As uncomfortable as I was in my soaking wet clothes, I was starting to warm up and decided I could bear being wet more than the indignity of wearing pajamas in public. We went to a second store where they sold overpriced and overlarge sweat pants. My niece found the one inexpensive, reasonably sized pair and bought those. We went to a third store and a fourth. It wasn’t promising until the girls spotted a clothing store that I had passed thinking it was a head shop.

As soon as we walked in the door of the Poppy Seed, I immediately saw the cutest pair of palazzo pants in an Indian print, but that was only half of the equation so I kept walking. In the back of the store, I found a blue sun dress that I thought would go beautifully with my cowboy boots and the blue sweater (dry) that I was wearing. I tried it on and made a snap decision. I threw the sweater on over the dress, pulled my boots back on and charged from the dressing room. On the way to the counter, I picked up the palazzo pants and a marching bear baby doll t-shirt that caught my eye. At the counter, I asked if she’d ring up the dress while I was wearing it.  She was kind enough to dig around in the back for the tag, and give me a plastic sack for my wet clothes. Meanwhile the girls were in full shopping mode themselves. My niece had found a fabulous sun dress that complimented her in the most stunning way. Her friend had found a beautiful fluttery skirt.  We were warm, dry and looked fantastic.

Afterwards we explored the unique little shops of Manitou Springs, taking care of the need to eat and the need to use a restroom along the way. With those things taken care of, we made a more leisurely shopping trip of the occasion, including a memorable run on soap at Mavi Turkish Arts. With the rain long gone there were street artists performing on the corners. It was a lovely day for shopping; alas, we still had a long drive home.

We were a half hour into our return trip when we ran into a thunderstorm and our cell phones started buzzing with alerts of a tornado warning for the homestead. For good measure my mother called to make sure we were okay. We were still forty minutes from home in an intense thunderstorm, heading to a tornado, so of course I told my mother that it was all under control. When I got off the phone, I reminded the girls that as native Kansans we all knew what to do if we spotted a tornado. For you non-native Kansans, that is pull over, get out and lie in the ditch. I just needed their help watching for tornadoes behind us.

Onward we went. Then the news of another severe storm front moving from the west toward us (and eventually) the house was announced on the radio. I knew that we would definitely beat that storm to the house. I also knew that there would be a couple of sweeping hilltop views of the horizon before we got near home, so we’d be able to assess from a distance how bad it was. Eventually we drove out of the thunderstorm we were in and turned off towards home, toward the tornado warning. The first vista of the east didn’t look to bad, so we kept going. When we were ten miles away, we reached the second vista. There we could see a grey drape of torrential rain to the north of our destination. Another grey drape of rain was to the south of our destination. The bright clear patch in between was our destination, so we kept going. We arrived home to find that it hadn’t begun to rain there yet. The storms had completely missed us, and all we got was a long soft rain.

At last, we were home. I pulled in the trash bins from the gate, re-covered the garden beds to protect them from hail, fed the dogs, and checked the chickens. My niece’s friend helped me make a salad, while I put some chicken in marinade. All we had to do was wait for the grill master to come home from work. (Rain is no reason not to grill.)

It had been a productive day. It had been a fun day. It had been an adventurous day. It was my favorite day. . . so far.