As fall color, the caution-yellow flowers of rabbitbrush tend to flare early. They bloomed here, this year, weeks before the aspen or the scrub oak got around to changing. As a wildflower, though, rabbitbrush blooms late, which is why plantswoman Lauren Springer Ogden refers to it as the “last bar open”: a destination where insects gather for one final slug of nectar before the season shuts down.
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For the purposes of this blog, what’s relevant to know about me is where I live, which is on a grassy ridge in central Colorado, at an elevation of 8900 feet. The nearest town of any size is thirty miles away and very few of my neighbors have a social security number. Their identities are, instead, defined by their habits and roles in the landscape.
About My Book
Andrea Jones writes about life at the urban-wild interface from two different homes in the Colorado Rockies, first in Fourmile Canyon west of Boulder, then near Cap Rock Ridge in central Colorado. Whether negotiating territory with a mountain lion, working to reduce her property’s vulnerability to wildfire, or decoding the distinct personalities of her horses, she offers useful and engaging perspectives on natural beauty, and the nature of home.