I chat with neighbors (anyone living less than 30 minutes away qualifies) and listen to the stories of an old timer, who tells me of his dad, a real-deal cowboy, who herded cattle on the lush mountaintops all summer, rode bulls and clowned at rodeos, known far and wide in his day. Their family homesteaded back in the early 1920s, like many local families here.

     Country music begins to play while everyone gathers, and our performers begin their sound checks.

      How strange! Me, an east-coast girl, from the rolling hills of Pennsylvania, to find myself here, for the 11th year, in western Colorado.

      It began with two friends. One gal I grew up with, and my now sister-in-law, Christmastime of 2006.

     Says the sis to my friend, “Do you have any friends that would be a good match for my brother? He’s getting old, and we don’t want him to end up with some half-converted, Colorado cowgirl, you know.” So my friend whipped out a photo and an address, of yours truly. So at the ripe old age of 26, Stephen wrote my dad an “asking permission” letter, (because that’s just how it was done.)

      My dad called some contacts to make sure this Colorado wild man was a safe and decent specimen, and was met with glowing reviews.

      And away it went. After a whirlwind romance, like a Hallmark “Bride Goes West” movie, we had a double wedding with my oldest sister and her husband.

Again! I found myself in the front seat of a UHaul, traveling 2000 miles away to Grand Junction, Colorado, far from the home and the family and friends I loved.

    I set up a nest in the little basement apartment Stephen had lived in for the year previous, and made it home. We spent two years in Junction while we saved money and searched for a home of our own.

    Here, I learned what real hiking was, in real boots, down miles of canyon and up into the thin air of grand mountains. I learned to ski in great puffs of powdery snow in the endless sunshine, and how to dress for the season, (like end of May, better have your winter coat at the ready!)

I soaked in natural hot springs, and stuck my feet in icy snow-melt rivers, watched the graceful deer bound and leap over fences, heard the bugle of bull elk with their herds feeding in late, snow-dusted Autumn.

I gaped, amazed and silent, as clusters of bighorn sheep clambered nimbly up and down steep, rocky hills, smiled as tiny  lizards darted away as we trekked the endless trails, and Rocky Mountain Bluebirds fluttered in flocks under the vast, azure blue sky, radiant with sunshine.

    I’d never seen such stars, glittering like diamonds across the dark silky heavens, or seen the cloudy swath of the Milky Way glowing so close, nor had I ever felt such deep silence, broken only by the eerie yapping of coyotes.

    Here, we had our first beautiful, blond, blue-eyed baby boy, Nicolas, and then followed two more, Geno and Angelo.

How much I had to learn, how much patience had to work in me, how much joy and life and maturity they would create in our little home.

    Again, we loaded up the truck and moved to a 40 acre chunk of land full of sagebrush and a handful of scraggly, determined Junipers and Pines.

There was a well with good, fresh water, and an ugly, little trailer in an awful state.

So we went to work. (Still are, 9 years later.) Cleaning, painting, resurfacing the whole place, with our four hands and the kindness of various friends who offered to help.

Slowly, it became a home, a table in the wilderness.

    Not gonna lie, there are times I don’t think I’m cut out for the harsh life of the west. The isolation, the cold, the wind, the barren lack of green.

But I see the twinkle in the blue eyes, the dreamer man who wants to tame his own piece of wilderness with his strength and smarts.

    So I try to make home cozy, full of warmth and joy, delicious smells and tastes, music and laughter.

    Remember those Pennsylvania women I was describing?

How they were such domestic queens, with their sparkling clean houses, homemade bread and jam and luscious gardens and jars of pickles and hand sewn quilts and clothes?

Mama Mia. It’s harder than I thought. But I keep learning and honing those skills which add richness, health and delight to life, which I hope to share with you.

    Four months after the birth of the last of the three, beautiful blond boys, came an unwelcome visitor.

    February, 2014. The doctor looked at me with compassion and pain on her face. “I’m so sorry. I do not have good news for you.”

Cancer would rock my world, it would never again be the same. But sometimes ugly visitors bring good gifts, and teach us new things we’d never learn otherwise.

     I was 28 years old, with three little ones… It was stage 2B colon cancer, in a fist-sized tumor. After a 7-hour surgery and a 5-day hospital stay, I couldn’t wait to get home.

And from there, a journey began, to health and wholeness.

    I’ve learned so much. It was empowering to learn that it wasn’t all genetics, (although that certainly played a part.)

So many herbs, foods, not to mention emotional healing, was available to me for the wholeness I craved and suffered from the lack of.

    I continue to learn, to make effort and change, to grow healthier, wiser and stronger, and prepare my sons to also be healthy, wise and strong. With joy, not fear. Good choices, not reaction. It demands a focus on nutritious foods, which in my book, include occasional fun treats, and lots of healthy ones. And, of course! Exercise, sunshine, healthy nourishment for the mind with excellent books, good movies, delightful music, and peaceful, honest emotional processing.

  I’ve learned to make products to increase the health and decrease the toxicity of our home, like homemade cleaners and soap, as well as various bath & body products. I love playing with wonderful scents and textures, knowing my creations are safe and helpful. Not to mention they make fun gifts for friends and family.

   So here we are. A panorama of my life so far. Thank you for sharing it with me. I look forward to good times together with you!