A rainy night in Niwot

Second Avenue in Niwot

Only when my friend Meg arrived from Nashville did I realize how short her visit would actually be. 

After an early dinner at Cerberus Brewing Company (they smoke their own brisket) and a great bottle of wine (2007 St. Cosme Chateauneuf-du-Pape) over some records, I spent Saturday morning showing Meg around the Springs. Then we had to head north so she could attend the folk song school in Lyons, the purpose of her trip to Colorado. 

With its old resort town feel, Manitou went over well. It’s weird living a short distance from a quirky spot like Manitou Springs and rarely visiting. But its narrow main street is crowded with tourists in spring and summer, so I prefer any stops come at off-times. 

This Saturday morning was pretty sedate – in Old Colorado City, we managed to get a table at Bon Ton’s before the breakfast line ringed the patio. The Marigold burrito done Christmas style (served with red and green chiles). Even Manitou had not been overrun by the masses. We stepped off Manitou Avenue and explored some of the houses on streets that climb into the foothills. We tasted water from several of Manitou’s namesake springs (one tasted like baking soda, another was carbonated) that hide along Manitou Avenue. 

Before we headed up to the Boulder area, we needed to celebrate the day, the 150th anniversary of Colorado Springs’ founding, July 31, 1871. We didn’t watch the parade, just six blocks away. A handful of military aircraft, mostly helicopters, flew above the parade route down Tejon Street. 

Fortunately, there were other ways to mark the occasion - I had a bottle of the barrel-strength bourbon that The Axe & Oak Distillery produced for the occasion. It was easily the smoothest barrel-strength bourbon either of us had tasted. Zero backbite, just sublime and easy to drink at that alcohol content. One glass was enough and the big breakfast warded off its effects. 

A quick ice cream at the Tastee Freeze would be the last local stop for Meg’s visit. The rainy summer rolled back as we moved north past Denver and into Boulder County. The roads almost seemed flooded in parts. 

A quick turn off the parkway dropped us in Niwot, a little unincorporated town outside Boulder. Named for Arapahoe Chief Niwot (whose name means left-handed), the town seemed the bustle despite the rain. 

Second Avenue, its main drag, was stately and peppered with restaurants, bars and coffeehouses. We had a beverage and a charcuterie board at The Wheel House, which shares space with Niwot Wheel Works, a bicycle shop. The combination seems like pure Colorado. 

Meg’s friends Teresa and Peter had a gig at the Old Oak Coffeehouse. Their friends from the song school filtered in as a sturdy rain fell along Second Avenue. Meg played a few songs throughout their set. It wa a welcoming bunch, all old friends, and they brought me into the fold. 

After the show, we went to the 1914 House, a nice restaurant with a covered patio and large garden of raised beds. I admired their healthy rainbow chard plants, but was disappointed none of the dishes included that chard. Many small plates were passed, and the entrees were all delicious. I managed bounce through different conversations, and found everyone friendly. We ate and drank till 1914 House closed. 

With everyone bunking at a local house for the night, the revelry continued for a little while. The musicians began trading songs and passing the guitar. I enjoyed it, remembering a time when I might have offered a song or two. Through it all, they treated me as if I’d always been there, always joined this group in late summer. 

After saying goodbye to Meg, I exited while the rest of the crowd slept on Sunday morning. The air was cool and moist, the farm fields coated in last night’s rain and the mountains above Boulder still fogged in. Light but aggressive traffic plied the Foothills Parkway. The rain crept in as I drew closer to the mountains and stayed with me most of the drive to the Springs. 

A red fox darted across the parkway, walking daintily, as if it instinctively knew it would reach the woods before any car came close. Not sure there’s any symbolism in that, but I admired its nonchalance in crossing a four-lane highway.