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The air is lighter and cleaner here. I feel healthy just walking down to my favorite coffee house.

Actually, my favorite coffee house here is one of about four different ones around here. Five, maybe. Everyone has a favorite.

The plains intersect with the mountains right here. I can drive for ten minutes into the Front Range and be a thousand feet higher than I am sitting here in our home.

Two environments — plains and mountains — and several different coffee houses.

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I took a walk this evening across the street to our local park here in Boulder to walk off the nerves that have accumulated mysteriously since I had my port removed a couple of weeks ago. We have had sunny weather ever since our arrival; if it rains, the clouds pass quickly. The Front Range keeps any weather pattern from hanging around forever, as it is in Cincinnati.

I had forgotten that the Farmer’s Market would be open, but it was/is. I had also naively assumed that Farmer’s Markets are only open in the early part of the day. Fortunately, I was wrong: the booths were open and filled with freshly raised broccoli and salad greens and grass-fed beef. Hundreds of people were there at the height of dinner time, including many families with small children. Everyone was spread out on the grass wherever there was shade from the sun that was only beginning to fade into orange.

I did not bring any money, so couldn’t share in the food, but I brought along the iPad to do some reading by the creek. That was what I needed: cool rushing water, green grass, a couple dozen kids running around while their parents browse the organic vegetables. Fortunately for you, I took a picture:

Again and again. I love traveling, but hate the suspension of normal reality while it occurs. But we are here, nevertheless, as you see by the last post of beautiful Boulder Creek at almost-flood stage.

If only I could get the dog and the cats here somehow, we would be all set and have little reason to go back to Cincinnati, especially that now you can get Graeter’s ice cream shipped anywhere. Hmm, I’m talking myself out of Cincinnati as I type.

Benefit of staying here forever: I never have to drive through Kansas again.

I am blogging to you from a very rainy downtown Boulder. It should be sunny. Sunny is what I signed up for. Maybe a cloud or two when it snows. Not this chilly damp, which I thought that I left at home in Cincinnati.

However, here I am, trying another independent coffee house which offers free WiFi. There are many of these in Boulder, each full of people like me drinking lattés and staring intently at glowing screens. It being Boulder, most of the screens bear an Apple logo. Boulder is that sort of city, which is very fine by me.

Current coffee house is called The Cup. It is independent, as are Saxy’s and The Laughing Goat, both of which I also frequent. It is a bit frowned upon by the local intelligentsia to go to a chain coffee house. The work of one’s hands (which one assumes goes on, with the roasting of the beans etc.) being noble, and all of that sort of thing. Since this is a college town, there are lots of superfluous intelligentsia hanging around soaking up the caffeine, and so much discussion goes on as to which coffee house is best. There is even a blog for those who want to read about the controversies.

As you might guess, there are many coffee houses of the independent type in Boulder. My own estimate is that there is one independent coffee house for every twenty citizens of Boulder. In other estimates of mine, there is also one sushi bar and one yoga school for every thirty citizens. I still haven’t gotten into the yoga yet, which makes me about the only un-fit person here. Physical fitness is required of all citizens. Some day they’re gonna find me out.

Until then, I will keep on hoping the sun comes back soon.

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It is the start of fall, and all changes in season bring changes everywhere. But not all changes are due to the seasons, I figure.

Our windows in Boulder look out upon the windows of the condos in another building, who have a good view of us. One learns about one’s neighbors, habits if not names. To my sadness, the Old Ladies With the Cats, who lived directly opposite us, are no longer there, and neither are the cats. Their place is now home to people roughly of the same age as my son. Sadness at the loss of two nice ladies, and two happy cats.

Also, they really have to keep the noise from the parties down. Whiny drunk girls sound even less attractive than even they think.

If the rain lets up, which I think it won’t, I’ll get out to see the ducks on the creek.

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