It’s Summer In The Mountains


Long’s Peak soars on the horizon looking over travelers on Trail Ridge Road in Rocky Mountain National Park.

It’s no secret that I love the high windswept meadows of Rocky Mountain National Park. By about February or March every year, I’m MORE than ready for wildflower season to commence.

But this year we Coloradans had a wrench thrown into our spring. on May 19-20 we had a huge storm come through. The National Park Service had nearly cleared and readied Trail Ridge for its annual opening on Memorial Day weekend, But when the storm hit, the front range mountains received several feet that kept blowing around for days.

And I had to postpone my first drive of the season. I make it a practice to make sure my Friday off (I don’t work a normal 9-5 work schedule) aligns with the opening of Trail Ridge so I can be a tourist for one day and just drive the road, stopping at every single overlook and enjoying the views. It’s just something I have to do after months of being stuck at 5,280 feet of elevation. ๐Ÿ˜‰


Approaching Poudre Lake and the Continental Divide.

On June 3, I finally got to make my annual drive. There was relatively little traffic that morning – I was the only person stopped at Rock Cut, believe it or not – and the weather was perfect. Warm and sunny, with a bit of a breeze. The perfect day to drive Trail Ridge Road.

I made it over to Kawuneeche from Estes Park in less than 2 hours – even with a few brief photo stops – and walked through the meadows at Coyote Valley and Holzworth, and then walked up the Colorado River Trail a bit. Marsh Marigolds and Candytuft showed white in the meadows wet with the spring melt.


Chickweed. I could really use a macro lens for my camera.


The Colorado River flows through the Kawuneeche Valley.

It was a really nice day in the park. Next visit, I’ll be looking at the tiny flowers above treeline. I can’t wait!


The Littlest Sleepy Elf

(Wow, two posts in two days…. And it isn’t even a Writers’ Challenge Month! I hope you all will bear with me as I write again about my knitting.)

Once upon a time, there was a tiny little baby. Like all babies, he was the sweetest, cutest little thing. Mommy, Daddy and a host of grandparents and aunts and uncles were very enamored with this little ball of love.

It was decided that he needed the perfect little cap to match his sleepy little self. Thus was born the Sleep Elf. His very talented knitting aunt scoured pattern books, websites, Pinterest and finally came to the conclusion that she was going to have to improvise. ย She liked using a smaller gauge yarn than most existing patterns and she had the perfect yarn already in mind. So she sought to start with the basic stocking cap and elongate it into the perfect combination of cute baby and old-fashioned sleeping cap.


Now isn’t that the sweetest little Sleepy Elf you’ve ever seen? Suddenly, other babies wanted their own cap!


Who can resist a face like that?

After several iterations, the cap idea gave way to matching baby socks. Eventually, it was deemed that this little ensemble should be put on paper and made available to others who wanted to make their very own Sleepy Elf.

If you’d like your own Sleepy Elf, the cap – complete with matching booties – can be purchased in a variety of colors from my Etsy shop,ย JS Textiles and Designs. ๐Ÿ™‚ The pattern has also been published and is available on my Ravelry Pattern Store, Jennifer Stegmann Designs. ย (Note, sweet babies not included.)

I hope you enjoy this little bundle of inspiration as much as I do!

A Little Sparkle

It may come as a shock to some that I have rather expensive taste. Not that I have ever had the actual money to buy much of anything. ย But given my choice, I’d rather do without lots of $5 tee-shirts and wait until I can buy the nice shirt that goes with my black dress slacks. Even if that perfect purple shirt might not be 100% appropriate for my office.

And William Sonoma is my dream kitchen. Well, if that kitchen were in the middle of a log mansion in the middle of nowhere.

Lately, my knitting has turned away from cabled, striped or fair isle gloves like these:


to larger lace pieces like this:


Maybe it is my dream to be some fashion maven, regularly attending Broadway shows and $1,000 a plate charity dinners. (Ok, so those ARE dreams.)

Actually, at least in part, I think this is due to the mathematical challenge of lace knitting. Don’t get me wrong, I like the simplicity of doing my 1,000 pair of gloves. They have been the mainstay of my MountainWoolies business for years. They have helped me afford a bit of life. But after a while, I’m sad to say, they get to be a bit of a snoozefest. The challenge of creating a new pattern or piece of lace is giving my brain a much-needed boost during this spring season of dreary rain. Figuring out a complex stitch sequence or two has brought a smile to my face the last few weeks.

Here are two more such scarves:

In the coming weeks, I have a couple of sweaters that are drawn up on paper and a few more scarves on my needles. The sweaters are rather unlike items I’ve worn in the past. But perhaps this is a new era and no one will recognize me. If they work out as my imagination has planned, I’ll share my progress. ๐Ÿ™‚ Otherwise, I’ll resume glove knitting for the autumn craft shows.

As a side note, if you like what you’ve seen here, you might check out my new Etsy Store, JS Textiles & Designs. Thanks!


A Symbol of My Freedom… and A Bit More Inspiration

So, my gun-toting, Republican brother posted another Meme of Brilliance today. Sadly, I’m sure he found humor and truth in this picture:

I grew up around guns. I even learned how to shoot. And because of my family’s choices, and my subsequent life experiences apart from my family, I can see both sides of many perspectives. I am rather happy to have found freedom in other choices. I don’t have to live constantly on the defense and crippled by stereotypes because my choices and habits allow me independence of mind and body.
With that background, let me me share a symbol of my freedom:

So what is that? An incomplete sock? Those five little U.S. size O double point needles, to me, symbolize a skill of independence, a tradition of artistry and self-reliance, and a small way for me to separate myself from the Corporate Monster that forces us to all wear the same things, eat over-processed foods that kill us, and give up our ability and thought. 

I can spin my own yarns (although I did not make the yarn pictured), take a few measurements, and create something I need and will use every day. If I see a pattern in nature while I hike, I can translate it to yarn and carry that moment of joy and inspiration with me every time I wear that pair of socks or gloves (for I use these needles for both types of projects).

While the yarn pictured makes an interesting fabric due to the way it is dyed, the real interest for me is on the other side of the sock:

I really want to name this pattern “Diamonds Are A Girl’s Best Friend”, but I’m afraid that name might be taken. ๐Ÿ˜‰

I have said it before, I am a girl who likes dirt, plants and the great outdoors. I got the idea for this pattern after seeing a rattlesnake slithering along the ground at one of my former parks. Diamonds don’t have to be set in 14 karat gold to be special. And lots of folks like many types of diamonds.

I haven’t bought a pair of readymade socks in 15+ years. But I have a rainbow of pairs of socks that reflect my travels, observations, and experiences. Freedom of creation and supplying for my needs. 

My kniiting needles are indeed a great symbol of freedom.

Saturday Reflection

Guess a man needs an upset now and then to remind him that he doesn’t know as much as he thinks he does.
-Dick Proenneke, One Man’s Wilderness

It has been such a roller coaster this year so far. I’ve read One Man’s Wilderness many times since I bought the book on my first trip to Alaska ten years ago. We need these hiccups, especially in our interactions with Mother Nature, to help us remember our place. We are part of the greater ecosystem, not in charge of, despite the common perspective of our culture.

Yesterday’s experience with the older lady from south Texas on the ice made the quote stand out further to me.

My fear of going down the steep, narrow section of trail, and the woman’s fear of ice and falling, were enough to make me ponder. We each need to get out there and test ourselves. We aren’t all-powerful and we can only conquer what we try.

Just Another Day In The Neighborhood

I got a late start today, by hiking standards. In the summer, I generally start my longer hikes around 7 a.m. Today, I hit the trailhead about Noon. I didn’t have the longest trek planned, so a late start was fine. I relaxed this morning, ate a good breakfast and worked on a project until I was well-caffeinated and ready to go.

Bear Lake was fairly busy, but I took the first left turn and headed up to Nymph and Dream Lakes. How many times have I taken this trail? I’ve covered that 1.1 miles in the fresh green of spring, the heat of summer, golden Aspen leaves of autumn, and the blowing snow of winter. Like so many times before, I found myself seeing a few other hikers over and over as we made our way up the hill. Many were on their first visit to Rocky, college students from several states and retirees from Alabama.

You see, this is part of the beauty of the National Parks – they are a great melting pot. People from all over the world, challenging themselves physically and mentally. Learning about history and famous people, teaching themselves to conquer fears and reconnect with the resources that sustain their lives. So often, the National Parks force people to the same level – novices against Mother Nature.

Perhaps I should have challenged myself a bit more. I’ve done the snowshoe to Dream Lake maybe 15-20 times, and I sort of have every curve of the trail memorized. But I needed fresh air and I got a late start. So any miles were better than no miles. Dream Lake never disappoints. (By the way, the trail I did was about 1.1 miles and 450 feet of elevation gain, according to trail guides, although I did a bit of off-trail up at the lake just to get a different view.)

There is one section of the trail, about halfway between Nymph and Dream Lakes, where the winter trail is very narrow on the best of days and on warm sunny days like today, the snow is slippery and the trail deteriorates a little bit with every new set of footsteps. Add to this that the trail often is as wide as only one snowshoe. Going uphill might seem hard to some, but in my experience, downhill is much more nerve-wrecking. Gravity on a downhill slide is far more of an enemy.


Looking up the scary, narrow section. It’s steeper than the picture portrays.

After my lovely snack up at the lake, I decided it was time to head down the hill. I made it back down to the scary section, and there were people slipping and falling trying to get up the hill. Since I had snowshoes with crampons, I just waited at the top for a clear trail. A few other hikers lined up behind me, waiting as well. I chatted with them as we waited for the uphill folks to finish. One guy, maybe in his late 20s, looked longingly at my snowshoes. He said he’d not been too afraid going up, but watching folks now, he was a bit freaked. I told him I felt the same, even with my crampons. I pointed to the narrowest section and suggested that it would be fine if someone would just kick in an extra step. I showed him where to put his feet, all the while, telling myself that I could do the same. I could get past the scary bit. With my crazy big snowshoes, it might be really tight, but I’d done it before and I will live to do it again.

Perhaps now is a good time to share a lesson I’ve learned over the years: when on slippery, downhill trails, if I have snowshoes, I let everyone else in boots go ahead of me, even if I can move faster than them (which is usually the case since I have good traction). That way, when they slip and fall, they don’t slide into me and take me down with them. I won’t say how or when I learned this lesson. ๐Ÿ˜‰

Anyway, the guy said he’d try to kick in an extra step. His group headed down ahead of me, and all four of their group slipped and fell a bit. But they managed to kick in an extra step with only one scream uttered between them. He looked back up at me and said something about wanting to go back uphill. Other folks came around the bend, making their way up the hill at that moment and there was a time of crowding, confusion and nerves. I stepped to the side (thank goodness for those snowshoes) and let the uphill folks plow on. I was very thankful that the guys kicked the trail wider; it calmed my nerves quite a bit.

By letting groups pass me, I had a peaceful snowshoe down the trail. Back at Bear Lake, I decided to walk up to that lake – maybe only 200 feet further than my trail junction. It was very slick due to the high volume of traffic all winter, and melting and refreezing of snow. Several older folks told me I was smart to wear snowshoes. I smiled and said I’d just finished a bigger hike where I needed the traction.

One such older woman was clearly very scared of slipping and falling. Complete with a thick southern accent, perfectly dyed hair and makeup to make her look younger than she was, thin black jogging shoes and lots of chunky jewelry, she looked rather out of place. She had two men with her – I’m guessing her husband and her son. She was moving very slowly away from Bear Lake, back through the woods towards the parking lot. I asked if she wanted to borrow one of my hiking poles so that she had two to use. She turned me down. Her husband just smiled.

So I moved on to Bear Lake, and enjoyed watching people having snowball fights and building snowmen out on the frozen lake. Eventually, I turned around and started heading back to my car.

The older woman hadn’t made it more than 4-5 feet since I’d passed her going up to the lake. This time, she had two more people around her – a couple maybe in their 30s. I waited in the line of traffic on the trail for a minute and then made a decision. I had traction, whereas no one else in the vicinity did. Everyone was moving very slowly and there was a bottleneck on the trail.


Looks pretty tame from this perspective, but the icy trail scared older folks who had no traction. Bear Lake is the clearing just beyond the trees.

I picked up my pace, side-stepped around the crowd and stopped just in front of them. “This is what we’re going to do,” I said. “Let me help you.” I stomped pretty hard on the packed snow and ice in front of the woman. I assured her that I wasn’t going to slide, and showed her the crampons built into the decks of my snowshoes. I also pointed out that I was more… stout than she. She looked up and tried to laugh, but behind her sunglasses, I’m pretty sure she was in tears.

I offered my hand, which she took with her free hand. Someone had managed to give her a hiking pole which I reminded her to keep in contact with the ground when she lifted a foot to take a step. (In her case, two points of contact with the ground were better than one.) Her husband held tightly to her upper arm, and I snowshoed backwards, breaking up the ice, as we brought her down the hill. She held tightly to my hand the whole time. I was thankful that she seemed to catch on quickly to the idea of stepping where I’d broken the trail; wet feet were better than sliding and falling.

People watched us, and I’m sure the effort was a sight. The woman was rather vocal, in her southern accent, about how she couldn’t have done the walk back without me. (Well, she could have, but it would have taken a lot longer.)

This is what rangers do. We help people from all over live to tell stories of their adventures in the parks. Just another day in the park.


January Writers’ Challenge, Day 31: Describe what you would do in Washington, D.C. if you knew you wouldn’t be arrested.

Oh, so easy.

I would stage a coup and get Trump out of the White House.

He is a whore for a corporate dollar and really doesn’t care about anything else. This person is not qualified to lead an entire country, as he’s completely out of touch with the reality that most people face on a daily basis.

Yep, I would stage a coup and run that loser out of town.