Fortunate One

I just got home from a pickle party. Our friends Christine and Mark made twelve kinds of pickles this year and had a blind pickle tasting. All of the cucumbers were from their garden or from the farmer's market. The table was set with numbered dishes piled high with pickle slices, and in between was an assortment of hard and soft cheeses, crackers, pita, artichoke dip, breads and roasted red pepper dip. On tap was locally brewed beer from the Mountain Sun. We each had a rating sheet, and over the course of the evening we sampled and rated pickles. The evening culminated with a summary rating and a revelation of the winning and losing pickles. It turned out that one of the pickle varieties was actually from Whole Foods. It ranked near the bottom. The homemade jalapeno bread and butter pickles were the all-around favorite. We wrapped up the evening by the fireplace with coffee and dessert and lots of laughter.

One by one the guests departed, each carrying a few jars of their favorite pickles.

As for me, I had a nice fifteen minute walk home in the snow. I absolutely love walking in falling snow, especially at night. The snow reflects the light from the street lamps and buildings and even the darkest city parks and trails are bright enough to navigate with ease. The world is so quiet, and the snow just envelopes you. And this is the prettiest time of year for snow because downtown is all lit up for the holidays. Christmas trees are twinkling, and people are drinking hot cocoa behind frosted window panes. It's another one of those perfect Normal Rockwell moments that I live for.

Life is really good in Boulder. Really good. I may long for my cabin in the woods, but I have no cause to complain. I know how fortunate I am.