Wynn Worlds

Vagabond Photographer, full-timer in a tiny trailer.

Colorado

City Life: Denver

City Life: Denver

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Sometimes, you just gotta get away from nature and spend a weekend in the city, right? It’s kind of backwards to how most people think: they live in the city and get away to the country on the weekend. But when your life is all about forests and trees and campgrounds and the open road, a few days in the center of civilization can be quite the vacation.

First, I had to find a temporary home for Breeze. She spent the weekend at an RV storage facility southwest of Denver, where she was kept company by Airstreams, Winnebagos, Casitas, and all kinds of rigs. I did empty out the fridge this time, since I wouldn’t be around to keep an eye on it or the battery.

Then it was off to the Denver airport to pick up my friend, who had agreed several months ago to meet me for a girls weekend. It was finally here, and we celebrated with a good Italian dinner and red wine.

This was the view from the rental apartment we used for the weekend. It was close to the city center, but given the 90F temps and my friend getting used to going from sea level to 5,280 feet in the space of a plane flight, we used a lot of Uber drivers to get around.

We did drive ourselves to Cherry Creek Mall, which defines upscale shopping in Denver. It starts with the parking garage, where the lights indicate open spaces (green), ADA spaces (blue) and unavailable spaces (red). I have never seen this anywhere else, and it’s amazing how accurate it is!

The most incredible store was a furniture place, where I was mesmerized by the chandeliers going up four stories in an atrium.

And then there was the actual furniture. Honestly, I would be afraid to put a real baby into any of these cribs because at the first bit of drool, I’d be dying.

The next day, we ventured out to a crafts fair, which had some gorgeous jewelry (bought 2 pair of earrings and that was being fairly restrained, considering the things on offer). This sign, though, was my favorite.

When the heat got the better of us, we retreated to the air-conditioned Museum of Art, where the exhibits were quite good and gave me a lot to think about on the topic of creativity.

Here’s my friend, thoughtfully staring at a display of 1950s era living room furniture.

All too soon, the rental apartment was vacated, my friend flew home, and I picked up a very hot Breeze and decamped to a state park south of Denver.

But I wasn’t quite done with Denver: my nephew, Bob, invited me to a Rockies game vs. the LA Dodgers (which, if you thought I was a Dodgers fan because I grew up in LA, you apparently forgot I suffered through the worst of the Red Sox when I lived in Boston…).

I gotta admit, the sunset from the stadium was fantastic. Until then, though, the sun was a bit brutal, so he bought me a hat 🙂

One of the perks of my Denver-area campground was watching two balloons launch one morning. They didn’t seem to go far but this one got high enough to make a good photo for me. Thanks, dudes.

I have nothing but love for my time I spent in Denver,
and appreciation, and gratitude.

Brock Osweiler

Sunday Serenity: After the Storm

Sunday Serenity: After the Storm

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Although I hadn’t expected a snowstorm in late April, it had its upside after the storm when I wandered around the campground with my camera. What struck me as most interesting weren’t the wide vistas with white fields and tall trees but the branches heavy with snow.

The snow outlined bare branches on this tree, with ice beneath the branches as the snow melted then froze.

And some branches can hold more snow than others! This almost looks like a balancing act, there is so much weight on each of the thin branches.

By Sunday morning, the snow was melting quickly and the green sprouts on the trees were stretching towards the weak sunlight. By Sunday night, most of the snow was gone, and only memories remained.

“The snow itself is lonely or, if you prefer, self-sufficient. There is no other time when the whole world seems composed of one thing and one thing only.”

Joseph Wood Krutch

Friday, Before the Storm

Friday, Before the Storm

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It’s the anticipation of something that makes us either rejoice or fear it. In the case of the big snowstorm that was heading my way, I chose to revel in it and enjoy the light and clouds before it would all be covered in inches of the white stuff.

A small group of deer was eating all the grass they could find. Did they somehow know that it would all be hidden under snow the next morning?

The trees with their new green leaves would be caught unaware by the cold and the weight of the snow on tender shoots and branches.

This little guy had no thought for the morrow, jumping from branch to branch high up in a tall tree.

This black-billed magpie sat on my campsite post as if to ask if I was ready for what was coming our way.

And as much as I could be, Bella, Breeze, and I were ready: pipes wrapped, external faucet off, power cord firmly attached, and grocery shopping done. All we could do now was wait and watch and then enjoy the show.

I am not afraid of storms for I am learning how to sail my ship. 

Louisa May Alcott

Sunday Serenity: Reflections

Sunday Serenity: Reflections

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After the hustle and bustle of Albuquerque and Santa Fe, I booked myself a quiet week at Trinidad Lake because I had some thinking to do about “big things in life” and how I’m doing 8 months after retiring and almost a year after becoming an RV full-timer. I was struggling to articulate my issues all week, until two conversations with two friends, followed by a long walk by the water.

The first breakthrough was in the form of a metaphor from the first friend and conversation. After I retired, I was still on the “working for a living” shore for some months, working through the effects of leaving work. Eventually, though I jumped into the water. I’ve been swimming for a while now, and sometimes it feels like I’m just treading water. But now that I look at it, I have been slowly swimming to another shore. I liked the idea that I’m am simply between shores, rather than wandering aimlessly in the desert of life.

The second conversation was with a friend who had stepped away from the workforce for several years, and who understood exactly where I am, having gone from full-on productivity for decades to “huh, what now?” status as a retired worker-bee. We talked about being too young to retire from life, and what might be next up for me. It was a good talk but I still didn’t have a clear direction.

Later that day, I walked around the lake, taking the photographs that are shown here, and it was there that I realized I have already landed on a shore, I just couldn’t see it until now. I am standing on that new shore as an artist. That’s who I am now.

I am an artist. I am a photographer. Wow, that’s kind of scary to put in writing. Or publish in a blog post. But there it is.

I create images because it’s the way I express myself, from the composition to the colors to the presentation. And yet it feels so audacious to say “I’m an artist” because I always thought artists were super-talented, the chosen ones who had galleries and agents and followings, and someone like me, a high-tech worker-bee, couldn’t ever be one of those people. But here I am.

I don’t know where this choice will lead, but I’m going to find out. And it’s way better than treading water in the cold ocean of uncertainty.

I am seeking. I am striving. I am in it with all my heart.

Vincent van Gogh

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