Sunday, August 2, 2015

A Fleeting Summer and the Pleine Air Art Festival

Wow--it's already August.  I sneaked out for one little hike to the top of Devil's Staircase in June, and in July walked with my mom (age 85) to the first waterfall up Teton Canyon.  I will make time to go once more this month before school begins again. 

Thank you everyone for our frenetically busy summer season!  It's a good idea to make reservations ahead at least through Labor Day this year.  What with Teton Park and Yellowstone Park so close, with the hiking and biking and fishing and music festivals and artists' gatherings and various summer races and car shows and the Spud Drive-In, great little airport, and excellent restaurants, our little valley is filling up nearly every night.

It's been a very wet summer, so everything is still a beautiful green and the wildflowers are abundant.  We came home from the Pleine Air art show yesterday with a gorgeous painting of wildflowers in the aspens painted by Teton Valley's own Bob Harper.

I had always dreamed of having Thomas Kincade stay with us and paint us a romanticized version of our place.  Pipe dream, I know! So last week, Pleine-Air artist Stephen Henry of  Clinton, UT stepped up to paint it for us.  It's a lovely piece.  Thanks Stephen! 

We hope you can make a trip through Driggs this summer and spend a little time with us.  We've got an acre of lush green lawn out back, the firepit and gas grills with picnic area, a croquet set and horseshoe pit for the asking, as well as our over-sized, outdoor Jacuzzi.  Bring the family and enjoy Teton Valley this summer!

Nancy and John 

Monday, March 30, 2015

The Last Winter Storm

So it's the end of March already, and John has enjoyed many days this month skiing in the early afternoon and golfing towards evening!  It's been the mildest winter and earliest spring I can remember in my 35 years here in Teton Valley.  We're glad that our guests are still enjoying the skiing at Grand Targhee.

John and I did find time recently to sneak away and soak in a couple of hot springs:  one old favorite and one new one.  So take a peek at our photograph in "Where in the world are John and Nancy #4?" on our home page and see if you can be the first to figure out where we are for a free night for two at the motel.  We enjoy sharing one of our favorite pastimes with all of you!

Now the daffodils are beginning to bloom in the flowerbeds and the snow has disappeared from town.  The first robin showed up on February 10th this year!  I think I'll be able to hang the sheets on the line again this weekend, and to hike in my beloved mountains soon.

So here's a poem you might enjoy about winter's last snowfall:

The Last Winter Storm

     Birds like pepper sprinkled on a winter sky, dive and twist
                             as grey-brown branches stir,
                                         tearing the grey-white depths into jagged layers.
     The clouds regroup, piling one atop another,
     shoving and squeezing
     billowing into shades of angry grey.
     Dark and ominous in their hurry to stuff the narrow valley
     and overfill every meandering canyon,
     the blackening clouds expand,
                             drawing strength from strength,
                             inhaling with a growing wind,
                                         intensity and power.

     Then the silent blast begins,
                             as thickly, quickly,
                             the mute whiteness surrounds and reshapes
     the dirty brown remains of previous storms.
     Long, lovely minutes stretch into a magical hour until
                             suddenly still, the air, crystal clear,
                                         carries tinkling laughter,
                             and the whiteness blinds as shards of twinkling crystal
                                         burst in all directions.

     The sky flaunts her new blue robe
     with the golden orb about her neck.
     The heavy trees bow to her beauty,
                             then toss their limbs high toward her
                                         as they shake off the twinkling crystal dust
                                         and laugh their tinkling bell laughter.
     Robin Redbreast stands fluffed and perturbed
     in a sheltered spot,
     indignant at being caught yet again—
                             greedy to be the first red robin spotted
                                         on the greening grass.

Nancy Nielson