A Big Welcome!

Summertime is reading time. Open arms and hugs to all you new subscribers at Tedder Travel Tales. How fun to have you join along!

A Personal Update:

Five weeks ago we landed from our Music Is Medicine tour in Israel; singing over war’s wounded and traumatized. What a marvelous but intense time!

We feel rested. We are recovered. You prayed for that and it worked, so thank you. Even as I write on this cool Colorado morning, I am aware that our personal recovery needs pale in comparison to the Israelis and all who are affected by war. Trust me, there’s no whining here! We feel privileged to have carried others burdens, even if for a brief time and already we are aching to get back.

Across the coffee table and online, our sweet friends pressed in and asked the hard questions about what we saw and heard in Israel. They wanted to know the condition of our souls so we told them. It really helped. We are blessed.

In addition to listening, other kind friends made our month-after-May beautifully therapeutic. They provided a gratis and gorgeous space in which we could process. God’s people are truly amazing as Mark and I were gifted four glorious days at Glen Eyrie Castle in Colorado Springs.

Our Prussian room had a two toned blue damask wall paper with brassy highlights. The raised texture felt velvety. An ash picture rail displayed gothic frames which held artwork that was not to be ignored. It was exactly what this slavic soul needed!

Tudor in style, the bodacious build was surrounded by the ridiculously red rock formations of God’s Garden. The year was 1871 and if you had the means and your name was General William Jackson Palmer, it was a fine time to make your architectural mark.

We chose no technology during our stay. It helped us appreciate even more the Castle’s coffee shop and our frequent visits - ensuring us a swift pace to our book devouring. In the afternoons we hammocked while watching wild turkeys peck and feed their away across the lawn. Looking up from our novels, a lone eagle soared above. My guess is that its nest was tucked high into the rocks - sheltered and safe.

In the cool of the evenings, we walked around the flower gardens whose blooms were bent on giving glory until darkness demanded their bedtime.

Checking out of the stately home, our planned summer reprieve continued.

We packed up and experienced some off grid camping. Heading towards Cottonwood Pass, we stumbled upon a patriotically perfect morning. The town’s July 4th parade was a real treat. Thousands lined the streets. They stood in reverence as a local vocalist belted out, a capella, our treasured National Anthem. Baseball caps were reverently removed, children were shushed, and right hands placed over hearts that beat red, white, and blue. The crowds hummed and sang along. We were in tears.

With the State of our Nation renewed, however fleeting, we headed further west. Climbing in altitude our techno-free flag continued flapping in the mountain wind - what a welcomed choice in today’s always-wired world. You should try it!

And is there anything better than cooking outside? No! However, we kept one eye on the horizon. There were bear in the area. Word-in-the-woods was that they liked bacon, eggs, and waffles too.

The near deafening sound of the omnipresent of creek was healing. Evidently, Sir Snowmelt had married the beautiful Springwater somewhere up the narrow ravine. They were in a hurry to get to their glacier lake honeymoon and rushed past us at Nascar speed. The violent flow was mere feet from our dispersed campsite and was pure Edenesque.

My apologies, dear reader, that I didn’t record the water sound for you. In repentance, I shall offer you a bit of C.S. Lewis. He knows about water and thirst.

It is true. There is no other stream.

“Are you not thirsty?” said the Lion.

“I’m dying of thirst,” said Jill.

“Then drink,” said the Lion.

“May I — could I — would you mind going away while I do?” said Jill.

The Lion answered this only by a look and a very low growl.

…The delicious rippling noise of the stream was driving her nearly frantic.

“Will you promise not to – do anything to me, if I do come?” said Jill.

“I make no promise,” said the Lion.

…“I daren’t come and drink,” said Jill.

“Then you will die of thirst,” said the Lion.

“Oh dear!” said Jill, coming another step nearer. “I suppose I must go and look for another stream then.”

“There is no other stream,” said the Lion.

taken from The Silver Chair.

P.S. This weekend I’ll probably wrap up An Ancient Series from Jerusalem soon. Then its on to more story-telling from further afield in Israel.

P.S.P.S. If you are new on Substack, once again, welcome to Tedder Travel Tales. Click the story link below to discover all of our archived articles.

Start reading from April 2nd!