On Christmas Eve, the five of us gathered around my computer and watched A Christmas Story. It wasn’t ideal comfortwise, but we had fun.


Christmas morning dawned cold, windy, and white.


We lazed around much of the day watching movies. I took a walk in the afternoon. Most of the snow had blown into drifts by this time, but the wind hadn’t died down any — there were gusts around 50 mph.



Near where I took these photos in Woodmoor, I spotted a Harris’s Sparrow in a bush. It’s only the second one I’ve ever seen, and neither of them have been where the species is at all common.

For dinner, we went to Columbine Gardens Chinese Restaurant. The hostess was about eight years old, the servers were indifferent, but the food was excellent.



The next morning we took Beth to Denver to the airport. It was good to have her here. Without her, it would have just been Sally and me in a basement. With her, it was a holiday.

Here’s the Blue Mustang at the entrance to the Denver Airport. At night, his eyes glow red. I call it the demon horse. Others call it Blucifer. Before it was even unveiled, it fell on the sculptor who created it and killed him.  


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