Compartments

Ancient History

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It’s time to shine, anthocyanins!

Let’s do this, xanthophyll! The chemistry behind fall’s gorgeous display of colors is fascinating and complex. The unique chemical composition of differing tree species, coupled with environmental conditions, determines if a tree will turn red, orange, yellow, purple, or brown. Chlorophyll, which makes leaves green in summer, begins to wane. This allows the color chemicals to ramp up production.

If only the colors changed because a giant invisible squirrel fairy’s paint pots were knocked over by her lush, proud tail.

Or, maybe an Owl King’s pizza party got severely out of hand? Some marinara there, some roma tomatoes there, golden crust here, some spicy brown sausage yonder. What a charming mess.

Here in Colorado, our leaves are predominantly yellow in the fall. The mountains are carpeted with aspen trees, light on the anthocyanins. Perhaps their color mirrors the gold still buried deep, deep down? It’s so bright, it wheezes up through granite and marble and rhodochrosite.

I want to press the owl’s pizza between sheets of waxed paper. I want to dab a brush into my backyard aspens and paint a golden scene.

How can the beginning of the end of the year feel so fresh?

Teddy, who is in kindergarten, is learning about seasons. Yesterday, he was surprised he didn’t wake to a red, orange, and yellow world. He learned in fall, the leaves change. Teddy has demonstrated this remarkable fact through paintings, coloring, and breathless descriptions of how he’s so gonna jump in all those orange and red leafs!

He’s newly five and never gave much thought to the changes we see throughout the year. He was certain these things happen in an instant. BOOM. Fall. I had to explain it takes time, but that means we will get to have more fun. Every day on the drive to school, the trees we see are less green, more yellow or orange. Look.

leaves

Nature gets to show itself the door. Trust it to be beautiful, always and in its own time. When winter comes, you’ll be able to recognize the beauty in the clacking bones, the cold, the silence, the hard ground that houses a seed or thousand.

Hayride Horror, revisited

It’s been awhile, so I thought I’d trot out one of my favorite photos of fall fun. This is my mom and my uncle, around 1948.

May your fall be free of pokey hay, allergens, one-piece zip up suits, and sadness.

hayridehorror

The Breakfast Club has disbanded

We are blessed to live near one of the greatest natural amphitheaters in the world. It’s a little place called Red Rocks. Bands haven’t truly made it until they’ve played Red Rocks. It’s iconic. If you’re not familiar with Red Rocks, find U2’s “Sunday Bloody Sunday” video and soak in all that glorious music, fire, and rain. That’s Bono. That’s Bono marching around with a flag. That’s Red Rocks.

Throughout warm weather months, something happens there nearly every night. Usually, it’s a concert. On nights when it isn’t booked by would-be Bonos, the Denver Film Society sponsors Film on the Rocks. They pair movies with a short concert and sometimes a comedian. It’s wildly popular. I’ve always wanted to go and got my chance several weeks ago.

Red Rocks. No Bono.

Red Rocks. No Bono.

I took one of my teenaged sons to see “The Breakfast Club”. He’s a John Hughes fan, but he had never seen the classic. We went with my brother and sister-in-law, also fans of Hughes and the 80s in general, although they were younger kids during that bitchin’ decade. I graduated from high school in 1989, so I was a true 80s teenager. I danced to “Rock Lobster” with outsized hair while wearing an ESPRIT sweater.

To my son, the 80s are ancient history but I figured he’d enjoy seeing a classic that would paint the olden days in a different light. He’d see 80s kids weren’t much different than kids today. Schools are still clique infested. Kids continue to worry about the same issues.

As we watched I was struck by how much I forgot—and how if it were made today, it would be vastly different.

~ Brian would have been expelled and arrested for bringing a flare gun to school. He wouldn’t have been at Breakfast Club.

~ Likewise, Bender’s locker guillotine would be a one way ticket to expulsion. As the school resource officer disassembled the guillotine, his pot stash would have been discovered. That would lead to arrest. Bender, seemingly permanent resident of Saturday detention, wouldn’t have been there either.

~ Andrew ended up in detention because he physically attacked a kid in the locker room, taping his butt cheeks closed. Today, that would lead to not only suspension, but assault charges. He wouldn’t have been at Breakfast Club.

~ Claire’s crime was skipping school to go shopping. Today, she wouldn’t have to leave the premises to shop. She’d just whip out her smartphone and one-click order those pink Fendi shearling ankle boots, size seven, in between Trig and Creative Writing. She wouldn’t have been at Breakfast Club, either, unless that was the name of an on-trend brunch spot.

~ Emo, mopey, snow-scalped Allison might have been at Breakfast Club, simply because she had nothing better to do. Lucky for her, stores still sell Cap’n Crunch cereal and Pixie Straws. However, she would have ended the day as she began: Without soft makeup, hair full of flakes, no jock to beguile.

Today’s “The Breakfast Club” would be about one solitary girl spending a day in a quiet library, sketching scenes while eating a sugar sandwich. Mr. Vernon couldn’t paw through personnel files, as they’d all be on a computer. Instead, he’d spend his day trolling the Politico comment threads or maybe binge-watching Netflix Originals.

Scratch that. Today, Allison would go to a chain coffee spot and gorge herself on a word we didn’t have in the 80s: Frapps. More sugar than a sugar sandwich with 100% more caffeine buzz!

Yesterday’s Breakfast Club members are today’s Mr. Vernons. Mr. Vernon, proceed. I hear “Longmire” is great.

There is no Breakfast Club any more.