How, I prodded, did she find the strength to go all the way, especially knowing she could catch a ride into any of the towns she passed by? “I’m stubborn!” she laughed. “I’m also a big believer that language creates reality. For me, how I work, I have to say I’m going to do it. That creates a pressure—I said I was going to, so I have to. I didn’t want to be a quitter.”
My father used to say, “The best time in your life is when your children have their feet under your dinner table.” I thought it was funny then, back in the day when I wore plain Mennonite dresses and a traditional white cap to cover errant curls. Eating meals together as a family was as common as breathing.
This is not New York. Not quite L.A. This is Denver. I’ve lived here thrice. Where the dust never settles, trainyards are always half full, everything continues—unsettled. Denver has again become lonesome for her heroes.
Whether you’re a maker or simply someone with an appreciation for good work and words, we come to this space to share in the things that exist to bring us together: food, art, nature, and fellowship. It is our namesake, and because of it, we have had the privilege of meeting some wonderful people. Lauren DeFilippo is one such person, and she’s doing so much more than just sharing her photography talents with our magazine and its readers.
Big cities close in on you: fact.
In my formative years, I would stare
out the car window at perfect lines of
leafy fields, rolling like film.
Music is something that can grip us all, and to be the one to do that, to create a mood, to make a feeling, seemed to me the epitome of artistry. Certainly, it is something that John Runnels, the creator of Morning Bear, has mastered.
I’m a recovering modern, and it’s hard for me to stay mindful while the world around me moves at breakneck speed. These pigs are my teachers.
