by Karon -

Wandering Through Niwot

I have always loved exploring—little antique shops, small towns, the outdoors. Antique shops had a certain mystery about them because you never knew what you might find. I still have an old perfume bottle that I bought in an antique shop when I was eighteen. It was in a small lavender box with all the wording written in French. At that point in my life I dreamed of visiting Paris and that little bottle was sort of a touchstone for that dream.

Fast forward a lot of years, and I have traveled to many destinations (not Paris yet). Somewhere along the way, our dreams change and evolve, and so it went with Paris. Italy became my love. I’ve visited twice and would still love to live there. But for now, I am content with my current plan. A slow nomadic lifestyle.

I still love to explore. I have realized with this current stay in Arvada, Colorado, that much of my exploring involves being outdoors. Whether it’s walking through a new small town or visiting a state park, I love to be out in the fresh air. This week also brought a few chilly, rainy days. I happily spent a couple of days curled up with hot tea, books, movies, and a fire in the fireplace.

Even though it was overcast with a chance of rain, I ventured out one morning to the sweet little town of Niwot. It almost felt like stepping back in time. Massive Plains Cottonwood trees lined the streets, making the town feel like a place that had quietly stayed true to itself for a very long time. All throughout town were large hand-shaped chairs painted in unique designs that invited visitors to stop and sit for a while. Bronze bears and foxes peeked out from behind a bush here and there in the landscaping near businesses. Flowers trailed from baskets on streetlights and window boxes on storefronts. Niwot quickly became one of my favorite small towns!

Osmosis Art Gallery was one of my first stops in town. I loved the idea of osmosis… soaking up inspiration and creativity just by being in the presence of the art. The process seemed to begin before I even entered the gallery. There were all kinds of whimsical art pieces on the lawn, including two of the large hands that I had seen throughout town along with brightly colored whimsical birds and flowers. The gallery was full of eclectic art with everything from paintings, to pottery, to handmade soap and jewelry. Just the kind of fun, quirky gallery that I love!

As I walked into Wise Buys Antiques in the historic district, a bell chimed. I slowly walked through the shop hoping to find some little thing that I just had to have. I wanted to collect something from this little town that I had been so charmed by. I looked at the pink depression glass and thought of my Aunt Jewel. I think hers had been green. I was suddenly reminded of all of the delicious meals at her house as a kid. I love how just seeing an item can produce a sweet memory. I picked up a well-worn Nancy Drew book and flipped through it thinking of how I had loved to read these books when I was about ten. I wondered how many hands had held this particular book. I didn’t find anything that I could justify adding to the bins and suitcases I travel with and decided to wander on to the next shop.

My next stop before wandering back to my car was The Little Bird. Another great little shop! While browsing the unique clothes and gift items, I chatted with the owner about the pronunciation of Niwot and what had brought him to town. I thought about how this little town was really close to my perfect town. I found a little gift for a friend and then went back out into the cool air.

As I returned to my car, I thought about how at eighteen, exploration had looked like dreaming about faraway places and collecting little reminders of where I hoped life would take me. These days, I seem to find just as much joy wandering through small towns, noticing tiny details, and allowing myself to move a little more slowly through the world.

by Karon -

My First Week in Colorado

The water was almost a sapphire blue with snow-capped mountains rising in the distance, and I remember thinking—this is not a bad way to start the day. I was out for a morning walk at the neighborhood lake on my first full day in Colorado when I spotted a large, white bird floating on the water. As I got closer, I couldn’t believe my eyes—it was an American white pelican. They were the very same birds I had seen during my stay in Rockport, Texas. They wintered there, but I thought they were coastal water birds and had no idea that a few months later I would be seeing them in such a landlocked region.

As I continued my walk around the lake, there were lots of other water birds. Canadian Geese swam by, some with their goslings trailing behind, and Mallards drifted on the water while huge carp spawned near the shoreline. The crisp 52-degree air felt perfect for a morning walk. The Texas heat I left behind a few days earlier was just a memory now. As I came around a bend in the path, a bench appeared. I sat down feeling very blessed to be back in Colorado and simply savored the moment.

After a while, I returned to my temporary home and cooked myself a healthy breakfast which included a toasted slice of lavender sourdough bread that my host had prepared for me. I thoroughly enjoyed every bite.

Then I plopped myself into a lounge chair on the back patio and watched a squirrel sift through the fallen birdseed looking for a morsel. The trickling fountain, chirping birds, and melodious wind chimes created the perfect spot to read for a while before enjoying a little nap in the fresh air. I felt like I didn’t have a care in the world and nothing that I needed to do. This gloriously relaxing morning was just the thing I needed after the long drive.

As the week went on, in addition to walking and relaxing on the patio, I ventured out for some sightseeing. One day I made the thirty-minute drive to Boulder and shopped at the Pearl Street Mall. Such a “Colorado” experience. Pearl Street is a pedestrian mall with lovely shops, galleries, and cafes offering outdoor seating. It was a perfect day with crisp, clean air, sunshine, and mountains in the distance. There were sculptures and nature features designed into the walkway along with flowers and trees. I especially loved the sculpture of the mama bear with her cubs along with the boulders placed here and there.

Even though I am typically drawn more quickly to paintings, a small sea-blue turtle caught my eye as I walked into an art gallery. It looked like origami. As I walked further into the gallery, there was a whole body of work by artist Kevin Box that embodied the same style. This section was all white and each bronze origami sculpture had an unfolded version. These artworks spoke to me in a soft, familiar way that immediately took me back to my time in Japan with the delicate, intricate paper artworks. Only this artwork had a strong, solid feel to it. I loved the idea of giving permanence to a delicate form of art.

On another day I explored Olde Town Arvada. The downtown area is sort of a smaller, quainter version of Pearl Street, with a real hometown feel. I stopped for chai tea and felt genuinely welcomed by some locals. Just a short walk from the coffee shop is the Arvada Flour Mill, built in 1923 by Eugene Emory Benjamin along the railroad tracks at the southern edge of town. The mill operated through the 1950s, though much of its machinery was already older, having been brought in from another mill. Just down the tracks stands the old water tower, a simple but iconic reminder of Arvada’s early days, and together they give a glimpse into the town’s history as a small but active agricultural and railroad community.

In less than a week, I had already found my rhythm here with short trips exploring, quiet walks, and time for relaxing. My next local adventure was a visit to the Sculpture Field which is a rotating exhibit of outdoor sculptures at the Arvada Center for the Arts. The center itself is large and beautiful with outdoor seating and a children’s interactive sculpture garden featuring a large, colorful dragon. There was also a pond with a path and permanent sculpture installations. As I walked through the field, I found myself contemplating the inspirations behind the artworks as I scanned the QR codes and read about each piece. I am always fascinated by what motivates artists to create that particular art in that particular medium. I love the inspiration I feel when I have the opportunity to see an eclectic collection of artworks.

In one short week in Colorado, I have settled in, found my rhythm, viewed some amazing art, and made a few meaningful connections. It seems that I am learning how to really relax into slow travel and this nomadic life. I am looking forward to my next four weeks in Colorado!

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by Karon -

On the Road Again, Heading a Little North: Texas to Colorado Road Trip

So, I am on the road again after a three-week visit with my son and his family. I am heading out for about three months with stays in Colorado and New Mexico. I’m really excited because I haven’t been in Colorado for about 25 years and the longest I had ever stayed was about a week. This time, I will be there for five weeks! As I started out on this trip, my heart was full from time with my grandsons and the previous month with my mom.

A friend gave me this little ornament. We’ve been friends for about 25 years. She is traveling with me in spirit.

My first stop on this trip was a short visit with my sister who lives near Dallas. Time with people I love has become so precious to me. We didn’t do anything elaborate, just some shopping and lunch, and then a dinner with her and my niece. Even though the visit was brief, being with my sister feels restorative and grounding.

From there, I headed toward Palo Duro Canyon State Park to see the “Grand Canyon of Texas,” the second-largest canyon in the country. A large, dark cloud hung low in the distance and before too long, I found myself driving along the edge of it. I hoped I would get past the storm and find sunny skies, but the dark cloud faded into a sky that was completely overcast.

Driving through the flat stretch of the Texas Panhandle, everything feels wide open and almost unchanging—and then, almost without warning, the land drops away. Pulling into Palo Duro Canyon State Park, it feels like stumbling onto something unexpected. The canyon opens up in layers of red and orange, stretching out farther than you think it will. It’s quiet in a way that’s hard to describe—no rush, no noise, just space. I noticed how the canyon looked a little different every few minutes. Almost as soon as I arrived, the rain began.

What stayed with me most wasn’t just how big it is, but how steady it feels. There’s something grounding about being there, like the canyon has been doing its thing for a very long time and doesn’t need anything from you. I stood there, taking it in—the stillness, the openness, the feeling of being small in a good way. It’s the kind of place that gently reminds you to be present, without forcing it.

Then it was on to a quick stop at the Cadillac Ranch. This is something I’ve wanted to see if I were ever passing through—and here I am. I really didn’t know much about it—just that there were old Cadillacs nose down in the ground that had been painted.

Seeing it in person was even more fun than I expected. The cars are completely covered in layers upon layers of spray paint, and people were out there adding their own colors and messages, so of course I added a little paint of my own too. Even though it was 42 degrees with a light rain, there was a connection with the other visitors. We shared cans of spray paint, took photos of each other with the cars, and laughed with a group of four men on motorcycles who were out in that unexpected weather. Those brief connections with strangers make my time on the road feel a little more connected.

I later learned the installation was created back in 1974 by an art group called Ant Farm, and the Cadillacs are buried at the same angle as the pyramids of Giza, which somehow makes the whole thing even quirkier. What I liked most was that it isn’t meant to stay the same—the artwork is constantly changing with every traveler who stops by.

My day of travel ended with an overnight stay in Trinidad, Colorado, and dinner at a Tex-Mex restaurant that was a little different from the Tex-Mex I’m used to.

After a bit of sightseeing the next morning, I started the drive toward Arvada, where I’ll be staying for the next couple of weeks.

By the time I reached that stretch of the trip, it felt like this first leg had already given me more than I expected—time with people I love, a reminder to slow down, and a few moments of quiet that seem to stay with you long after you leave. Not a bad way to begin three months on the road.

by Karon -

My April Project: Less Scrolling, More Living

I had been toying with the idea of a digital detox for a while. I just didn’t realize how much I actually needed it.

With so much change over the past several months, I had begun to feel the need for less input, less noise, and more clarity. I decided to make that my April project—a digital detox of sorts: less TV, less scrolling, and more space to think.

With simple, clear rules—no TV and just 15 minutes of scrolling each day—I set out to clear the mental clutter. It felt like a natural next step after decluttering my life physically a few months ago.

I wasn’t perfect at meeting my goals, but I consistently tried. Like many people, I had justified my screen time because so much of it felt practical—calls, emails, and searches. Even so, by the end of the month, it had noticeably improved. My screen time was less than half of what it had been.

Giving up TV was easy. I really haven’t watched much for years. What surprised me was how much clutter came from social media—even the “helpful” kind. I follow smart people who share great advice on health and fitness, but after a while, even good information becomes overwhelming. Scrolling had quietly turned into a form of procrastination.

So I started putting my phone down and doing the next small thing instead. I began finishing things I had been putting off, and once I started, it became easier to keep going. My attention felt less fragmented, and my mind felt clearer.

Instead of consuming more ideas, I wanted to live the ones I already had. So I began putting some of my favorite advice into practice. Something shifted. I was taking action instead of endlessly thinking about taking action.

This month I read more, played with my grandsons, and walked after meals. One afternoon I sat outside without my phone—just the sound of birds, crickets, and frogs. The quiet felt deeply familiar, like stepping back into a slower rhythm I had almost forgotten. It helped that my son’s place is both peaceful and full of the everyday sounds of life—kids playing, laughter drifting in and out. I also began trying a couple of new habits from my list of “someday” ideas.

My goal was to simplify, decompress, and reclaim my attention. What I thought would be a project about reducing screen time turned out to be something deeper. It wasn’t just about using my phone less—it was about returning to life as it was happening and being fully present for it.