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May 2011

Monday, May 2 , 5:30 p.m.,Temple Grandin is scheduled to speak in Telluride at the Palm Theatre. Yes, THE Temple Grandin.

Temple Grandin became as much of a fixture on the awards show circuit as her Tinseltown counterpart, Claire Danes. And when the lovely Danes won a Golden Globe Award, she made very sure to honor the woman who inspired the eponymous biopic. The film focused on the giant strides Grandin made in the fields of autism advocacy and animal welfare.

A high-functioning autistic,Temple Grandin did not speak until age four. Ultimately, however, she went on to earn a B.A. in psychology and masters and doctorate degrees in animal science. Today Grandin is a full professor at Colorado State University, best-selling author, inventor, designer, consultant.

01 May, 2011 /
 

A trip to the american girl store Describing Chicago as a second city is like describing Telluride as a second Aspen. It’s inaccurate and ruffles feathers on both sides. I love New York, and I love Chicago. But there can be no ranking. They are entirely different places just as Telluride and Aspen are entirely different places.

Here’s what I love about Chicago: it’s a city that feels like an out-grown town. When I go to see family there two or three times a year, and I run along the lake front, people almost always smile or nod when we cross paths. Like Telluride, Chicago is not a place where you can be anonymous. The city draws the introvert out of you.

01 May, 2011 /

by Rosemerry Wahtola Trommer

(ed. note: After a devastating April around the country and the world, May is a welcome change. Rosemerry has sent three poems to welcome Spring in Telluride and Western Colorado. May 1 is also Kjerstin Klein's birthday. Happy Birthday, kid.)

Preparing the Garden for Spring


Spring Garden We pull up the old iron slabs I had used
as stepping stones for my garden. By we,
I mean I pull them up. My son takes
to raking the shriveled brown cords of melons,
pumpkins and squash. His interest wanes
soon enough and he leaves me with my hands
in familiar gray dirt. In my lungs, dust rises
like long-forgotten prayers. And I am alone,

though not alone. There are several of me here.
One woman who dreams of kissing in rain. One woman
who plots where new seeds will go. One woman
plants herself in this bed. One woman kneels
in the morning’s gold shrine. And one woman lifts
old iron slabs. She blossoms one now at a time.

01 May, 2011 /