Clowns and Cones

♥

SUMMER MEMORIES

THE BEST OF. . .

Summertime in the Rockies!

Fresh air.

Blue skies.

Colorful flowers.

Childhood images roaming through my mind are making me homesick. I want to hike the mountains, clamber up pine trees, and roast weenies over a makeshift fire pit with my dad.

For the most part, I loved my childhood, though I probably would have told you differently if you’d asked me back then.

Every July was Rooftop Rodeo time. I can smell the horses; their trailers pack the fairgrounds. If I close my eyes, I hear voices echoing off the walls of the giant aluminum-looking grandstand. In the evenings, we’d sit on brown metal chairs right up front. Arabians—veiled riders and horses—paraded around the arena in an array of colors. Barrel racers. Calf ropers. And of course, the bucking bulls chased by crazy clowns running to rescue fallen riders.

Me and Apache, my first horse.

Each time we attended the rodeo, I ordered the same thing—a snow cone. They didn’t offer a zillion exotic spices the way today’s vendors do. Just simple flavors. Cherry, grape, orange, and my favorite, lime. The green syrup would inevitably leak out the bottom of the paper wrapping and into my hand. Good enough to lick.

Flavored ice isn’t an expensive treat, but the memories that funneled through those cones were priceless.

 Share in the comment section

what is (or was) your favorite summer food?

The Way of the Embattled Spirit