September 22, 1915

I love cottonwoods. I do not know why. Perhaps it is subtle grandiosity. They tower tall, endure the wind, and offer a home to the transient wildlife. They stoically cast shadows along the river and the streets of Steamboat Springs. I have a thin leaf variety close to my backdoor. I cannot reach, by any safe means, the dead branches directly above my porch to trim them from my lovely tree. The crows sit there every morning calling loudly. Their spiteful caws seem to say, He is here, and it’s time for bombing practice. It is a fecal matter, and I keep a slingshot handy. They know my face and my ineffective weapon. Too many times, if I did not pay attention, my magic morning elixir appeared as their target. If they missed my coffee, then they hit my head or shoulders. Ranchers just shoot them if they fly over and report seeing the crows flying with caution out of range. Maybe that is why a flock is called a murder. I could just kill them. They are too damn smart.

It has remained hot with scant rain since June. Talk around town accounts of crop quantity being a third less and the river lower than anyone remembers. Nonetheless, Eric Lugon drowns up in Pleasant Valley, at the old Henry C. Monson place, searching for a lost calf. I did not know the man born in Switzerland 38 years ago. Since I wade in the river several times a week angling, such news gets my attention. Slippery moss-covered rocks could be my demise. More likely JJ, he is difficult to scare and has the potential to ruin far more than my coffee. The dog and I will avoid those possibilities.

The main trunk of the sewer line is thankfully nearly completed. I find walking difficult through town. Unless I have errands, I avoid the construction and stride the railroad tracks to work. Today I wanted to pick up this week’s newspaper. Miss Elsie Collier, the 18-year-old daughter of the contractor James Collier took roll call of the laborers and checked material. She wore a heavy mackinaw to protect her from the morning chill and directed the men to their tasks. Mr. Collier gave up on bringing heavy equipment to excavate and the men dug with shovels. She seems very competent in her duties and recognizes me from dinners at the Cabin where she dresses in the height of fashion. More women have the freedom to choose the directions of their lives and work in unusual, challenging professions. I ended up with dusty shoes and trouser cuffs. I would work excavation tools, if I had the need, such as helping Corina pay off JJ.

The first benefit of the State Workman’s Compensation Insurance will be paid to a Silverton second-time widow with five children ages 3 to 13. She was married only six days when her new husband died in a mining accident. The Domingo Mining and Milling Company paid $69 insurance per miner and the State will pay her $2,500. Talk about tough luck with a silver lining. Perhaps I need life insurance to help Corina in case our plan does not work out.

Ambassadors of the United States and Germany negotiated the settlement for the sinking of the steamer Arabic. Secrecy and tension surrounded the talks. I wondered, What was the cargo? Corina’s stepfather frequently travels with his freight ships from New York and England and danger remains ubiquitous on the North Atlantic Ocean.

The Western Colorado Palisade district shipped 600 carloads of Elberta peaches. I like to eat peaches and not so much the canning of them. I am glad that task was done for the year.

The aroma of fresh donuts greeted me as I arrived at the Cabin kitchen.

Maggie exclaimed, “This Calumet Baking Powder is really something. Here, try a donut with some coffee. They’re so light, fluffy and the batter rose so evenly. It’s far superior to sour milk and soda, just like the advertisement said.  Don’t you dare dunk one until they get hard.”

I laughed saying, “I promise.”

She beamed. A thought seemed to cross her mind and she turned serious. “The seat was up on the toilet at our place. Do you think du Bois visited Angela?”

“I don’t think he would unless you were home. Maybe she was cleaning it and forgot to close the lid or let the dog drink out of it. You should ask her.”

“Hmm, maybe I will.” Her suspicion surprised me and was not mentioned again today. As a group, we get along so well. We are close friends!