tmbt: first snow pancake
I experienced my personal first snow of the season this morning. It was on a long drive up the canyon towards higher ground, thinner air, and a clearer head. I got in my car to land myself at a downtown breakfast nook and just kept driving, the local station playing a contagious, beat-driven love story that just kept the road winding in front of me and pealing out behind me. I headed towards Boulder Canyon singing along to Train’s Calling All Angels, was left with no recourse but to keep driving by Zeppelin’s All of My Love, and then wound up the curves to Dream Catch Me courtesy of Newton Faulkner.
It was approaching the reservoir in Nederland that they started – big crispy, wind-blown flakes of snow touching down on my windshield and dropping down into my sunroof, open so that I could steal quick gazes at the partially-clouded blue sky. I drove right into those flakes, as if heading for the origin of the moisture. The wheels spun me right up into the heart of the little whacky mountain town, Ward, and at a table being served the best breakfast ever at Marrocco’s. I was all disheveled, hair tossed about and t-shirt sagging, but aglow with the joy of the drive, of the air, of the soundtrack, and of the reason it all means so much.
This simple, perfect little breakfast, it nearly brought tears to my eyes, I was so happy. The single pancake was so perfectly uneven in color and crispy around the edges – clearly cooked in butter just like my mom would do it. The scrambled eggs, too, with a little cheddar cheese, and the toast, too. When I saw the owner and cook, Celeste Marrocco, I knew why it was so perfect. She has the hardy, mid-western walk and warm face of my mother. And I knew she was from the Great Lakes area, which just made it even more perfect. After a few scares around my mother’s health lately and having not seen her in nearly a year, I was so happy for the homey reminder.
I gave all the appreciation I could, then wound myself back down the mountain thinking about how simply and beautiful life can be. I have been to so many parts of the world, had grand adventures, been treated to great luxuries, and carved out intricate and complicated niches of mental and physical substance for myself. I have had a pretty interesting life so far and think that there is probably much more to come to add to the long list of gorgeous eccentricities. But today, in the cool air, my heart full to the brim with love, and my belly full from a mother’s delft hand at the stove, I am reminded that I am, under it all, very simple. And the things that make me happiest are very simple things, too. They fill me like no extravagance can. They fill me with warmth and hope. And beauty.
Train: Calling All Angels
Led Zeppelin: All of My Love
Newton Faulkner: Dream Catch Me