It’s October. The foothills are draped with color. The kind of colors that folks apparently book bus trips to drive through Vermont to look at. I just have to raise my eyes to the horizon to take in a rainbow of yellow, bronze, magenta, peach and scarlet that promises the next change of season.
We’ve also had one tantalizing storm. Cold, rain, even blops of big, wet snowflakes hit the ground on the ‘benches.’ It sent everyone scuttling to pull out the fleece, sweaters, boots and rainwear. The peaks of the Wasatch are bravely holding onto the foot or so of snow that fell in that storm, despite the now balmy Indian summer weather.
It’s going to be 76 degrees this weekend. Bah, humbug.
My mind has already moved on to blessed winter.
Yes, it’s true. I love winter because we do winter differently in Utah. You don’t have to plan a weekend, fly across country or even drive five hours. You can check the weather at 6am, shower, eat a leisurely breakfast and be knee-deep when the lifts open. And although you don’t have to slide off rails or fly off cliffs to enjoy the stuff that the mountains pull out of the chilly winter air, these two video clips–of UofU students, BTW–give you an idea of the pure joy lying there in the white stuff, for the asking.
From the U, you don’t even need to drive. Just hop on the UTA bus that stops every morning at the Heritage Center. Less than an hour of iPod tunes (or a chapter of Economics) later, you’re at the top of Little Cottonwood Canyon.
And to celebrate the end of finals week on December 18th, you can go to Solitude in Big Cottonwood Canyon (the bus goes there also, after one connection) for Ski and Shred in Red Day.
I just came from “a taste of old Saigon”—on the west side of 13th East, believe it or not.
A glorious Indian summer afternoon called me away from the computer screen for fresh air and lunch. I ended up at Indochine, where I ordered Vietnamese coffee and a beef baguette. The sandwich was generous, spicy and full of flavor. And all the while I was savoring it, I watched my coffee brew.
That’s right. The coffee sits on your table and drips infinitesimally slowly through a small filter propped on top of a glass of sweetened condensed milk. Drop by espresso-chocolate-colored drop, the beverage of your dreams coalesces. You can almost begin to hear Carly Simon warble “Anticipation.”
Some twenty minutes later, after slurping every bit of the tender beef and crusty bread, and feasting on snatches of conversations about ribosomes, grant renewals, coding challenges and personnel decisions, the two-toned treat is ready. Stirring, the dark and light become a thick caramel richness that you then pour over a tumbler of ice.
Don’t hurry now.
Sip it. Through a straw. Relish the complex flavors, the composition, the surroundings. Dude. This is the way to finish a meal.
Outdoors, the sun is still ablaze in the autumnal blue sky, the air fresh and crisp. I am blocks away from my computer screen, but miles away—in old Saigon—in my head.
The next time you’re tempted to dash into a coffee store and plunk down three bucks for an over-roasted, over-heated beverage in a paper cup with plastic lid so you can schlep it in your right hand, cell phone in your left, across campus—think again. Good things come to those who wait.
