South Pearl Street’s Winterfest — as advertised:

and in reality, at 72 degrees on December 1:*

Yes, that guy is selling poems.  Why not, eh?  South Pearl Street is a little slice of Portlandia in Denver.   In fact, if you look carefully, the booth behind the poet is

where Tim bought a $12 jar of pickles, and which of course reminded me of

We also bought $50 worth of organic crap — what sort of weird spell do local farmers’ markets cast? — and I took some pictures.   Like this one, which seems to fit with my penchant for photographing random textured distressed things,

but was in fact taken at a stand selling random textured distressed things.

But this is the real deal: the side of an ancient pick-up truck.  Not sure why I like distressed vehicles so much.  Oh. Right.

Another random photo:

And two bonus dog photos.  Watching the Winterfest crowds wander by.

And Saguaro, just after this morning’s bath, helping me practice with the new flash.

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* That is not a political statement.  It is an accurate statement about the weather.  That is, we did not get pulled by snow-covered horses through snow-covered streets.  I walked through Winterfest in shorts and sandals.  In Denver.  In December.