The talks at EarthWorks Expo were much better, however. I enjoyed learning how to garden in the winter using a cold frame (and plan to try it out again this fall, if I can manage to plant everything in the next 2 weeks), but the best speaker was Albert Bates, whom you might call an optimist-environmentalist. Yes, they do exist. His vision of the future: Wallace and Gromit: The Curse of the Were-Rabbit.

But just in case things don’t work out the way Bates wants, at least you can go out in an eco-friendly way.

***

Today I turned 47 years old at 12:47 am (the witching hour). At my request, Todd got me a cake reading “Happy 45th Birthday,” because that was the last birthday I greeted with enthusiasm.

And then there’s that clown in the background.

The Mile High Business Alliance, a nonprofit I first encountered last fall, organized the small festival. There were businesses there from all over Denver, from Moss Pink flora and botanicals in Park Hill to Dragonfly Eco Goods in Highlands. I was happy to see that Bixa, located at Colfax and Vine (the purple store), is still in business. All these stores sell unique, locally made products, like these cloth substitutes for sandwich bags (SnackTaxi) from Dragonfly.

I was also happy to see a new Local Flavor Guide, to Lower Highland or LoHi, just northwest of downtown Denver across the South Platte River. Lower Highland, or just plain Highland, signifying a hill overlooking the river, runs into the trendy Highlands neighborhood, which is not to be confused with cookie-cutter suburb Highlands Ranch down south. Got it?

I was even more happy to get free Mexican chocolate ice cream from Little Man Ice Cream, which coincidentally, is located in LoHi.

I’m curious. Do you think LoHi is a stupid name?

We had visited 10 bars/restaurants at this point, including The Shoppe, one of our earliest stops.

Apparently the autofocus in my camera thought it was a good idea to focus on his fingernails. Or maybe I just don’t know how to use focus lock.

In the category of “torturing my husband with his favorite foods when he’s at work and can’t get them,” I present this picture of Steve’s Snappin’ Dogs, where we each got lemonade (house-made) and half a dog.

***

Feeling sad that you missed it? Go to LoDo Bites instead on August 18. I seem to recall hearing about similar festivals in Uptown and Highlands, though I can’t recall the details at the moment. I will post more information when I get it.

Although the festival website discouraged it, we drove and parked at a “nearby” school. So we weren’t quite as eco-friendly as this man.

It was a colorful festival, from these mysterious T-shirts to this woman at the Thailand tourism booth. I don’t think she would be able to eat in this costume.

As always at Denver festivals, there was good food, from Chez Thuy, my absolute favorite Vietnamese restaurant in the Denver metro area, to this somehow appropriate pairing, to the place I settled on because I’d never had Filipino-American food (Tropical Grill).

The dish I got, rice and kahlua pork and egg rolls, wasn’t especially remarkable, but it got rid of my sugar low. And then Todd came back with what he called “Thai shave ice,” which is topped with red beans and 3 kinds of jellies. Weird? Maybe. Tasty? Yes, though the mixture gets less appetizing the more you eat.

And to help work off all that food was this drum-and-dance group, part of the Lao Community of Colorado.

To recover from all that activity, we slumped down on the grass. But later I felt cheated when I wandered through the back-of-the-booths relaxation area. Then it occurred to me that the tents probably belonged to the teams who came to Denver to participate in the boat races. I wonder if anybody spent the night in the park?

These digs were probably the most basic of any I saw. Many tents had cots and coolers and chairs enough to seat a dozen people.

I’m not sure the arrangement of the festival in City Park differed from last year’s. It seemed the same to me, but then I did enter from 17th and Colorado this year, instead of walking over from the farmer’s market on Colfax at the esplanade.

I paid the “voluntary” $1 donation at the gate and spent another $2 on a raffle ticket. My first stop was Joda African Village, a discrete area with its own small stage and a few booths. I arrived at the end of M’ Shaka Fusion’s performance and didn’t feel compelled to wait for the next act, so I moved on to the F. Cosmo Harris Gospel Stage, where a dance group was performing to recorded music.

One thing I like about the Black Arts Festival is its location, actually IN a park instead of on the street surrounding a park (like Cinco de Mayo). But if you’re going to put a festival in a park, why not set up stages closer to shady areas so that festival-goers don’t have to hide under umbrellas?

The Black Arts Festival wends its way through City Park from 17th and Colorado toward the lake, with most booths set up along the paved paths and stages in the grass. I stopped for lunch at the Jerk Joint, one of two Caribbean food vendors, for the jerk pork dinner, with moist shredded pork, rice, and red cabbage coleslaw. The BBQ sauce tasted of vinegar, but my favorite condiment was the sauce marked “very spicy.” Yes! Then I finished with ice cream at Baskin-Robbins, which always makes me think of growing up in Kansas City. This food court also featured BBQ and the chicken-on-a-stick I enjoyed at Juneteenth. In the second food court, closer to the lake, I passed a Greek food both, the first I’ve seen at any festival, but I was full.

From across the park this building beckoned me, but as soon as I walked in I realized I had entirely mistaken it. I was expecting exhibits about nontoxic paint and compact fluorescent light bulbs, but instead, the HUD Healthy Home explained how to prevent carbon monoxide poisoning and how to seal cracks to keep out bugs. I wondered why I’ve never seen this exhibit at any other festival; I had the same reaction to my second encounter with the car crash exhibit (the first was at Juneteenth).

Finally I reached the Kuumba Main Stage, located down the hill from the Denver Museum of Nature and Science. While the crowd there waited for the SOS Band, they were entertained by local radio personality Reggie McDaniel and the members of Slam Nuba, a competitive performance poetry team that regularly competes in the National Poetry Slam. Their theme was relationships, and the second reader asserted that words are magic, both good and bad: “Your marriage is mangled because you misused your magic!” My favorite reader was the Original Woman, who asked the crowd stretched out on the lawn if they were tired of the fairy tales they told their daughters, tired of the stories in which all the woman are evil. She said she wanted to tell a story in which a princess wakes up a prince.

At that point I wished I had more than a couple of hours to spend at the festival. It wasn’t nearly enough to sample the rich variety of offerings. I was heading back to my truck when I remembered one final errand: I wanted to dispose of an extra copy of Black and Brown Faces in America’s Wild Places, a book written by photographer Dudley Edmondson in an effort to coax more African Americans into national parks. The value of this book for white people lies in sections like “Being a Face of Color in Remote Places.” (You should buy it just to read the story by the Yosemite park ranger about taking a KKK family into a cave.)

I stopped at the booth for Urban Spectrum: Spreading the News About People of Color, thinking they might want a copy of the book to add to the selection of books already on their table. Rosalind Harris, the publisher, suggested I donate it to the Black American West Museum and was generous enough to escort me through the festival in an effort to locate a woman who worked at the museum. I truly appreciate her kindness.

If it’s blues you want, don’t miss Blues and Brews, on Saturday, July 11, in the 1200 block of Old South Pearl.

On Monday, you can go to Cherry Creek Whole Foods and learn about local vendors in Denver and Colorado.

In 2008 Todd was out of town the weekend of the Cherry Blossom Festival, and I spent the day at Sakura Square listening to a sermon at the Denver Buddhist Temple, watching a judo demonstration, and checking out the booths and bands.

This year, I recognized the vintage kimonos and swords from last year but also noticed two potters, these dolls, and Buddha Baby. I skipped the flower arrangement competition in the Denver Buddhist Temple and bought water instead of the egg roll I enjoyed in 2008.

Late morning I photographed scads of Japanese dancers, including this adorable redhead joining in the dandelion dance (the seeds a reference to reincarnation). I’m of two minds about posting her picture. I think it’s OK because she was performing at a public festival, but then again, I didn’t get her parents’ permission. What do you think? Leave her in, or not?

Todd joined me in the late afternoon to watch the hula dancers. Afterward, we sought out shade at the Larimer and 19th corner of Sakura Square, where a garden memorializes Colorado governor Ralph Carr and Minoru Yasui, who fought for the rights of Japanese during their World War II internment. (There is also a plaza in the latter’s name at 303 West Colfax, across from the Denver Mint.)

Upstairs we browsed photographs of Japanese residents of Colorado, including Tadaatsu Matsudaira, who arrived here in 1886. Had J. J.’s Bistro, also upstairs, offered a patio along with its mostly Chinese menu, we would have dined al fresco, but instead we went downstairs and back into the blazing sun, where the line for shave ice was finally short enough for Todd.

While he was thus occupied, I got these four women to agree to a picture. They said they got their outfits from Japanese companies, online I assume.

Sadly for Todd, his treat turned out to be crushed ice. He claims shave ice melts differently on the tongue. I was happy to help him finish it, for I am not too particular about the shape of ice. It was a cool ending to my long day in the sun.

Not that the other Denver festivals I’ve attended haven’t been fun. It’s just that PrideFest was a warm, welcoming meet-and-greet-and-dance right at the end of downtown Denver. People were running into old friends around me. The ones who got dressed up were posing for pictures. There was free watermelon to put in your Three Olives vodka.

What more could you want? Well, I wished for about 5 friends who liked to dance. I could have gotten out there by myself, of course, but then what do I do with the big purse and camera and notebook?

And I was too shy to dance with Nuclea Waste and the Balloon Boys, though as you’ll see later, other people weren’t.

When I went by PrideFest on Saturday, in between the Cherry Blossom Festival, there was a minor dance party going on at one end of Civic Center Park, and someone was giving a speech in the Greek Theater at the other end. Booths circled the park, but things hadn’t really gotten started.

So if you have one hour to spend on PrideFest next year, go see the parade on Sunday morning. I showed up at Broadway and Colfax after 10 am and was still able to get right next to the floats. I could have walked down the parade route if I’d wanted and gotten a standing ovation. One marcher exclaimed within earshot, “It’s much better down here!”

I didn’t see very many truly fabulous floats, but I did like the Project Angelheart group carrying big cardboard forks and spoons and knives.

And the cowboys from the Colorado Gay Rodeo Association.

I visited the booths for the lavender farm and Grant Family Farms, where I picked up yet more free watermelon. I haven’t noticed farm booths at other festivals, but promoting your farm at a festival seems like a good idea. There were some amusing T-shirts for sale, including “Queerios” and “My Barbies Are Lesbians.” Do you suppose my relative who works at Mattel would appreciate that? But I draw the line at wearing a shirt that says, “Orgasm Donor.”

What made me want to stay for hours, despite the sunburn coming on, was the dancing.

I watched these two girls and thought, “This is what it’s all about.” And, “How come I didn’t know how to dance like that when I was a teenager?”

The man in the green shirt was a great dancer.

And these two? Well, she asked him to dance.

My husband dropped me off west of the Platte River, at 15th and Platte, an area that used to be off the beaten track. For as long as I can remember, Paris on the Platte has been serving coffee there, but now it keeps company with Vitamin Cottage and new housing and my first stop on the tour that would lead to downtown Denver: Wen Chocolates.

I don’t visit Wen often enough to get to know the staff, especially now that I’m on a diet. But Saturday was my splurge day, so I went to the tiny store (maybe 100 square feet) and started ordering truffles. As always, I got some freebies, one of which pleasantly surprised me: the rosemary truffle, my favorite of the day. It looks plain but has a distinct, delicate flavor of rosemary. Prazen Sladkor is simply the best caramel I’ve ever had, and the pear hazelnut (pictured) is awfully pretty. I couldn’t taste the pear at all; next time I order it, I’ll eat it first.

Sometimes my tours of Denver give me the feeling I’m passing through people’s lives ghost-wise. Today I sat at the confluence of the Platte River and Cherry Creek, content, trying to make the chocolates last longer than 5 minutes and watching people wade in the cold shallows across the river.

As I crossed Millennium Bridge on my way to the mall shuttle, I passed a wedding party swank enough to afford two photographers. Everyone but the bride wore black; I liked the bridesmaids’ sleek black satin dresses better than her elaborately appliquéd froth of a dress.

The thing I like about the shuttle is its ability to bring Denver to me. It carries everyone: tourists, the homeless, downtown Denver workers. I also like to study the storefronts on one side of the 16th Street Mall or the other, to memorize downtown Denver.

I could see no sign anywhere of the Downtown Denver Arts Festival, so I turned back to the passengers. The man next to me studied the RTD schedule changes intently. He was a regular at RTD board meetings, he said, flashing a grin with more gum than teeth.

By Welton, the festival materialized: white booths everywhere, squeezed in among the renovation of the Denver Pavilions. The art started this way for me: large landscapes, which you’d expect from an art fair in Colorado; metal wall hangings like sheaves of wheat; and photographs of horses, taken all over the United States but mostly in Colorado and back East, where Susan Williams used to live.

I was curious how much the artists were selling in this economy, so I stopped at a booth displaying ceramic objects painted with birds and asked the artist, Peggy Crago, if she birded. She said she doesn’t, but she likes to paint them. Saturday had been slow for her, but she said a festival can pick up anytime. She should know: she’s been exhibiting at the Downtown Denver Arts Festival for 11 years, since it was called the Celebrate Colorado Artists Festival.

Sean Brown didn’t want me to take pictures of his delightful ceramic birds perched on paintbrushes. Given that his work was hanging in public, I thought his attitude was ridiculous. At the next booth, I just went ahead and took a picture of this stunning $14,000 sculpture by James LaCasse.

Some other beauties: Marvin Blackmore‘s intricately painted Southwestern pots; Kristin De Santis‘s metal relief paintings (oils on aluminum); and Karen Smith‘s painting of a woman on a couch in neutral tones, titled Waiting for Her Date. If I’d had $1,100 burning a hole in my pocket, I’d have bought it on the spot.

Just as it began to sprinkle, I found myself at Diane Harty Millinery (hurray for a user-friendly website!). I watched her work a hat and tried on a few of her creations. I vowed I’d get one of her hats before the summer was up.

And that was half the festival at most. Even so, the Downtown Denver Arts Festival is more manageable than the Cherry Creek Arts Festival, which happens over the Fourth of July weekend in the Cherry Creek section of Denver.

As I was writing this entry, I came to two conclusions: Artists really don’t know how to make websites; “Click to Enter” is so yesterday and annoying. And I like the Denver Pavilions better with the streets blocked off: it seems like more of an organic whole.