The Year In Pictures

Everybody’s doing it, so I guess I will too. I’m talking about a photo dump of The Year In Pictures. A couple of disclaimers:

  1. I didn’t take all 25 of these pix. However, I will endeavor to give credit where it is due.
  2. I’m not IN all these pix either. In some cases I’ve never even BEEN to some of these places. So sue me.
  3. Not all these pix were taken in 2023. Some are just old favorites. Don’t complain: I’m old. You’re old. We all are.
  4. I have grouped according to theme. For cases where connection to the theme is tenuous, those pix are placed last.
  5. Happy Birthday to my better half today, born just in time for the tax deduction. In our 4-decade-old joint venture, credit for a majority of the good stuff – just like for most of these pictures – is her doing.
  6. Enjoy, y’all!

 Curvature

Point Arena stairwell in 2023. My photo. Yay!
The Year in Pictures - Sydney Opera House
Photo Credit: RGW on layover in Sydney.
The Year in Pictures - Wells Fargo.
Photo credit: AVW @ Wells Fargo building, downtown Denver.

 

South Pacific

Timor-Leste sunset. Photo Credit: RGW.

 

 

Timor-Leste compound. Photo: RGW.

Timor-Leste sunset, RGW.
Timor-Leste beach. Photo: RGW.

 

Sun Studies

Point Arena lighthouse, fog obscuring sun.
Sun smiles down in my wookroom.
An old favorite: Sunflowers on our kitchen table. Photo credit: AVW.

 

People Portraits

Year in Pictures: Just us 2
Just us 2 @ Union Station, Denver.
Just us 3 @ Kali Allison-Anderson’s wedding.
The Year in Pictures: Fam on Dam.
4/5 of us: Fam @ Chatfield Dam on 1/1/ 2023.

 

 

 

 

 

The Year in Pictures: DC.
The older 2 in DC @ the Capitol.
Our youngest shares my love of hiking on Spruce Mountain.

 

Outdoor Exercise

Me in my element: Roxborough State Park. Photo credit: AVW.
Year in Pictures - Staunton.
An oldie but goodie, overlook @ Staunton State Park from 2021.
KAW @ a high-point with RGW in the UK.
From an RGW hiking adventure in Utah.
AVW’s kayak just prior to her maiden voyage on Chatfield Reservoir last summer.

 

Flower Shots

Yes, AVW, this one’s for you, @ the Botanic Gardens in Ft. Bragg.
Cottonwood snag @sunset along the High Line Canal in DougCo.
Pinyon snag on Mt. Pinos in Southern California from 2020.
Driftwood @ a beach near Tillamook.
Pyrocanthus outside my workroom window.

 

 

And last but not least… <drumroll, please>

My all-time favorite shot of a street vendor in Brum, by – who else? – AVW in 2021.

 

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I hope you enjoyed your guided tour of The Year in Pictures. Got a favorite? Go ahead, leave a comment. Hey, it’s the least you can do – literally!

 

Addendum

 

In memoriam for David H. Wenthe, Anne’s dad.

As a young man he helped build Old Busch Stadium in St. Louis.

He remained a life-long Cardinals fan.

DHW (1935-2023). Go Cards.

Meme Dump

As 2023 winds down, sometimes you just gotta do a meme dump.

Meme Dump - Alexa

1st rule of hiking: Make eye contact.
Meme Dump - Less is More.
For my good friend, David Hoover.
Gerald, this one’s for you, buddy: Buckle up!

Meme Dump - Native Pride.

My wish for us all in the New Year.

Repent

Today’s Word of the Day (WOTD) is “repent.”  This means, literally, “turn around.” And today’s Public Service Announcement  is brought to you jointly by the Wyoming Dept. of Transportation (WYDOT)… and John the Baptist.

 

 

I mention John because today’s the 25th of December and that marks the end of the penitential liturgical season of Advent which was the Baptist’s heyday. It’s also the beginning of the 12 Days of Christmas leading up to Epiphany on January 6th – but that’s really only relevant if you’re Anglican, like me.

 

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Most of us trust our GPS implicitly, just as most of us place great faith in our own moral compass. But the Baptist’s message – “repent” – flies in the face of auto-directed wisdom. I’ll leave it to you to mull that over in your own quiet moments. But as for me, I have found John’s direction to be both trustworthy and true.

Everybody thinks they have a good grip on things, and that their own sh*it doesn’t stink. But everybody’s got an a**hole and, at least in the broad strokes, everybody is wrong about the stink part. Do you doubt it? Let me share a vignette to illustrate. Maybe that’ll help you reconnoiter (literally, “think again”).

 

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A long-time friend of mine who calls herself a Buddhist had this to say on social media about Christmas:  “If Christian mythology would have featured the birth of a brown baby girl, can you imagine how much hate, racism & misogyny the world would have been spared? I love myth stories, twinkly lights & a month-long glut of excessive eating as much as anyone, but for my money… once we’ve reached the age of four, believing in & talking to an imaginary friend who we feel can assist us isn’t charming. It’s psychotic.”

Eating disorders aside, that’s some pretty tough rhetoric right there – and also misguided, IMHO. The problem isn’t the content of the mythology, per se. And by that I mean that substituting “brown baby girl” for the usual inhabitant of our Christmas creche may satisfy a progressive’s sense of political correctness, but it does nothing to ameliorate the fundamental flaw in the human heart that leads many to “hate, racism, and misogyny.” And also, I might add, leads some to a misplaced sense of self-righteousness. C.S. Lewis called this “the problem of pride.” By that he meant, basically, the sense that our own sh*t doesn’t stink – while everyone else’s does.

It doesn’t take a mathematician to figure out that, with 2.38 billion Christians worldwide, that’s a whole lot more “psychosis” floating around this planet than most of us are willing to own up to or than most psychoanalysts are willing to diagnose. (It also lets most Buddhists off the hook, but let’s not go there.) The fact is, there is such a thing in this world as psychosis, and also, way too much hate-racism-misogyny. But to lay all of that at the feet of belief in an “imaginary friend who we feel can assist us” is short-sighted at best, and perhaps something a whole lot worse.

 

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Both my friend and I have had our struggles over the years. And both of us have come through the fire intact, albeit with our share of scars. Neither of us did so alone. Both of us had lots of help. My own feeling on the matter is this: Whatever works, baby. And also this: We get by with a little help from our friends, “imaginary” or otherwise. But mostly, my bottom line is this: I’ve got an a**hole just like you. Our major point of difference is this: I’m not so proud as to think that mine’s the only one without stink. Nope. Sorry. You, me, and that baby born in a stable? We all share a smell that’s integral to the human condition, and is the consequence of having a functional digestive tract. Believe it or don’t. But please, spare me the “It’s all the fault of an un-PC mythology.” I won’t call that “psychotic,” exactly. But it is missing the mark by a wide margin.

 

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Last word goes to Fredrick Buechner, whose quote I really like.

Repent - Fredrick Buechner.
Jesus said no one enters the Kingdom of Heaven except as a little child, and on this score, he was precisely correct.

 

Alright, I lied. Last word goes to history.com whose story of the Christmas Truce of 1914, here, harks back to a time when such an extravagantly merciful thing as a soccer game in no-man’s-land was still possible. In a world full of hate-racism-misogyny – along with wars and rumors of wars – may it ever be so.

 

Oh, and also this:

Repent (turn around), and reconnoiter (think again).

You can say you heard it here first.

Merry Christmas, y’all.

Golden Gate

Today’s Golden Gate Canyon State Park hike at altitude 9000+ ft. was a bit chillier than previous shirt-sleeve days’ hikes, see here and here; but the scenery was definitely more spectacular. Not only that, but there was elk scat on the trail. I can safely say you won’t see THAT on most golf courses, Tiger Woods.

 

Golden Gate Canyon State Park

Way better than golf:  Eat your heart out, Tiger.
You make the call: Elk? Sheep? Yeti?
Mt. Something-or-other from Panorama Point in Golden Gate Canyon State Park.
Mugging for the camera in Golden Gate Canyon State Park.
Mugging for the camera: Happy Trails, y’all!

Winter Solstice

The current iteration of our Castlewood Canyon hike started from the Old Homestead and headed upstream toward the washed-out dam on Cherry Creek. We took advantage of continued Rocky Mountain shirt-sleeve weather in advance of the next big storm, now slated for Christmas eve. Happy Winter Solstice, everybody!

 

Kate @WinterSolstice.
Kate taking advantage of summer-like weather here @ Winter Solstice.
From the late 1870’s until a fire in 1941, the Old Homestead was a working farm complete with milking parlor and hay storage.
Winter Solstice hike in Castlewood Canyon State Park.
Dan & Kelie Moe @ The Old Homestead in Castlewood Canyon State Park.

 

 

Plethora of Paths

Today’s hike followed Bear Creek from Little Park near Idledale up to Corwina Park and back. We had originally intended to climb above Lair o’the Bear up to Panorama Point in order to take in the spectacular view from the top, but opted instead for a more level creekside route. Besides, four miles RT is plenty enough for one day: No sense getting carried away. The shaded canyon preserves icy snowpack on pathways where there is perhaps a 20-degree (F) temperature drop from sunnier spots. It got up close to 60 F today. T-shirt weather in the Rockies the week before Christmas?  Crazy.

 

Plethora of Paths - Idledale.
A plethora of paths in Bear Creek Canyon: This is Little Park near Idledale.

 

I suspect that all the stone buildings in this canyon were built around the same time by the same workers nearly a century ago. Further upstream is Dunafon Castle which now bills itself as a wedding venue. As you can see, the stone construction is built to last. I don’t even want to think about how much work it took to fit all of that together.

Santie Kloos

From the current New Yorker. Much more Santie Kloos humor is here. Got a favorite? Speak now or forever… well, you know.

 

After Big Christmas convened some of the world’s greatest minds at a black site near Albuquerque to create Santa Claus (then spelled Santie Kloos), back in 1917, the attendees hosted a series of focus groups, to determine what version of the jolly older gentleman would most appeal to children and adults alike. Few know that his original suit was purple and trimmed with ermine. Or that the first iteration of his seasonal catchphrase was “hee hee hee!” — a high-pitched cackle that made many of those polled “deeply uncomfortable.” What we all do know is that the modern version of Santa Claus is a source of much merriment. Just consider this nearly century-spanning selection of New Yorker cartoons about the guy. No, seriously.

 

Santie Kloos overshoes.

“And the boss says to enjoy the fruitcake.”

 

 

 

“Those were some pretty nasty headwinds over Connecticut, but, you know, the team and I just put our heads down and took it one house at a time.”

 

Santa's workshop.

 

Santie Kloos sirloin.

 

Santie Kloos baggage claim.

 

Santie Kloos limo.

Thrillers Galore

If you – like me – notoriously wait until the last minute to do your Christmas shopping… and if you – like me – have a lot of people on your gift list who are voracious readers… then this may be just the post for you. Well, at least if you like reading thrillers, that is.

The NYT has compiled their list of “Best Thrillers of 2023,” here. I am pleased to say that the name “John Grisham” appears nowhere therein. If you – like me – are always looking for new authors of fresh thriller fiction, then I’d say you’ve come to the right place. Best of all? Amazon will ship a book anywhere. And if you’re lucky, it might even arrive by the 25th, so don’t delay, time’s a wastin’… because a good thriller waits for no man. Or woman either, for that matter.

 

This year’s best thrillers come in various shades of suspense, dread and wonder. But each leads the reader down a twisty path toward an unknown destination.

Let’s begin with Daniel Kraus’s wholly original, almost obscenely entertaining WHALEFALL (MTV Books, 336 pp., $27.99), which concerns the efforts of a hapless 17-year-old named Jay Gardiner to escape from a most improbable prison.

Jay’s father, Mitt, a legendary diver and mean drunk, recently drowned himself off the coast of Monterey, Calif., suffering from terminal cancer. But when Jay tries to help his grieving family by recovering his father’s remains, he is slurped up by a passing whale, becoming an unexpected side dish to the whale’s main meal of giant squid.

As he fights his way out, Jay has in his arsenal an hour’s worth of oxygen and a lifetime of lessons, on whales as well as humans, imparted to him by his dad. Kraus, the author of numerous science fiction and fantasy novels — and, with Guillermo del Toro, of the novel version of the film “The Shape of Water” — infuses his prose with a scientist’s rigor and a poet’s sensibility.

You won’t meet a more tortured or resourceful hero this year. And you won’t meet a nobler or more surprising whale, either.

 

I loved The Shape of Water. Might have to try this one.

 

Thrillers Galore - Whalefall.

 

Everyone needs a good legal thriller for Christmas. This year, it’s Martin Clark’s excellent THE PLINKO BOUNCE (Rare Bird Books, 270 pp., $28), set in rural Virginia and starring a straight-shooting public defender named Andy Hughes. As the book begins, Andy is gearing up to take on a final case before starting a fancy new job at a big law firm.

His client, a violent ex-con accused of murdering a woman in a drug-fueled frenzy, is obviously guilty. But Andy is too conscientious to provide anything other than a top-notch defense, and he finds major holes in the prosecution’s case. The courtroom scenes are authoritative — Clark, the author of several previous novels, is a retired Virginia circuit court judge — and compelling in a pleasingly unflashy way. Readers will feel they’re in good hands.

They might also think they know what’s coming, but they don’t. As Clark explains, a “Plinko bounce” refers to the unpredictable behavior of the plastic disks dropped into a giant vertical peg board in a game on “The Price Is Right.” But this is not a game, and when the bounce happens, it’s truly shocking.

There’s no thriller like a legal thriller. Especially when the author is someone other than Grisham. Another good possibility.

 

Many of us have been unnerved to find out how ubiquitous facial-recognition technology is at places like airports. If one thing is clear from reading Anthony McCarten’s high-octane GOING ZERO (Harper, 295 pp., $30), it’s that we have no clue how much of our private lives we’ve already given up.

The book begins when a megalomaniacal tech bazillionaire named Cy Baxter, an evil amalgam of Elon Musk, Mark Zuckerberg and Jeff Bezos, recruits 10 people to test the Fusion Initiative, a state-of-the-art surveillance system he’s devised with the U.S. government.

The volunteers are competing to evade the system for an entire month; anyone who remains un-found gets $3 million. But one by one, they go down, puny adversaries for the formidable arsenal of drones, cameras, virtual-reality devices, satellites, A.I.-enhanced research techniques and other technologies brought to bear against them.

But a lone volunteer, a Boston librarian — “single, childless, nearsighted” — manages to elude the system. And then the book cranks into a new gear, as we learn who this remarkable woman is, what she really wants and the lengths she is prepared to go to get it. “Privacy is passé,” Baxter says. That’s his opinion.

 

Gotta love it when the librarian outwits a tech bazillionaire. I’m definitely down for this one, because who doesn’t enjoy seeing Musk/Zuckerberg/Bezos get their comeuppance?

 

As you begin Sally Hepworth’s sly psychological puzzle THE SOULMATE (St. Martin’s, 327 pp., $28.99), please understand that what you’re seeing in the first few chapters is only part of the story, a sleight of hand perpetrated by the author. The book opens simply enough, with Pippa Gerard watching her husband, Gabe, try to talk a woman out of throwing herself over the cliff outside their house, a notorious spot for suicides.

But why does Gabe seem to be reaching toward the distressed woman — something he had been instructed never to do — as she teeters on the edge, then falls? And why, if Pippa loves her husband as much as she claims, did she once take an online survey called “Is Your Partner a Sociopath?” Hepworth metes out her information slowly and expertly, adding new ingredients to the pot so that instead of the simple broth with which we started we end up with a five-course dinner.

The dead woman, Amanda, narrates some of the chapters from beyond the grave. She wants to make something clear. “Unlike the scores of people who have come to this spot before me,” she says, “I did not come here to die.”

 

Hmmmm… “Is Your Partner a Sociopath?” Who among us hasn’t wondered exactly this?  Color me intrigued.

 

Watching two diabolical women try to outsmart each other while maintaining their placid facades in the library where they work is only one of the many pleasures of Laura Sims’s deliciously unsettling HOW CAN I HELP YOU (Putnam, 240 pp., $27). The book begins with Margo, an outwardly cheerful librarian with a big secret: In her previous job, she was a nurse with a knack for murdering her patients.

With her fake name and new identity, she seems to have gotten away with it. But she can’t escape her insatiable hunger for killing. And with the arrival of a new research librarian, a failed novelist named Patricia who suspects that Margo is hiding something and that it might make a great subject for her next book, Margo’s tenuous grip on sanity begins to slip away.

It’s no coincidence that both women admire Shirley Jackson’s “We Have Always Lived in the Castle,” with its subversive belief that even murderous psychopaths deserve our sympathy, or at least our understanding. But is there room in the library — or, for that matter, in the world in general — for both Margo and Patricia? Probably not.

 

Another librarian story, but this one sounds more anti-hero than hero: Nurse Ratched meets Failed Novelist.  Sounds delicious.

 

Anyone who has yet to discover the particular genius of Mick Herron, author of the darkly hilarious “Slow Horses” espionage novels, is in for a serious treat. His latest book, THE SECRET HOURS (Soho Crime, 384 pp., $27.95), isn’t part of the series but exists in its larger universe — featuring some familiar characters and providing a jaw-dropping back story for one of them.

The book begins with a bravura action sequence set in the English countryside. Who knew that a rotting badger carcass could be such a useful weapon? It’s unclear how this harrowing chase through a bunch of fields and back roads fits in with the rest of the story, but tuck it away in your mind, because Herron will return to it later.

We then switch to London, where an unnamed former prime minister of dubious morals — hello, Boris Johnson! — has spitefully set up a far-reaching inquiry into historical wrongdoing at MI5, Britain’s domestic security service. It’s a deadly dull exercise until suddenly one of its members receives a classified case file about a botched operation and subsequent cover-up dating back to 1994 Berlin, and everything changes.

As always, Herron is at his best when he’s laying bare the amusing petty rivalries and elaborate machinations of bureaucrats and spies. It’s not necessary to read any of his other books before reading this one, but once you start, you’ll want to read them all.

 

Part of a spy series set in England: Can you say “James Bond,” boys and girls? All this and Boris Johnson too? Can’t miss!

 

Recommended by Michael Connelly: It doesn’t get any better than that!

Dog Tree

After yesterday’s Cat Tree, you just knew there’d have to be a Dog Tree somewhere.  Et, voila.

Dog Tree

 

Also a Pepper Tree for all the foodies out there.

 

Alright, alright already. A traditional one.

St. Pat’s in New York. Happy now?