Even though the 1892 all-white male jury found otherwise, the circumstantial evidence against this taciturn young woman means that we find her guilty in the court of public opinion, even without the murder weapon.

Who needs a murder weapon when you’ve got erratic behavior and a massive inheritance at stake? The American legal system, apparently.

But THE trial of the 19th century, where a young woman is acquitted of hacking her parents to death, is worth revisiting. Especially on Halloween Eve.

Readers-

I know you’re a playful bunch and are busy right now planning, nay, scheming for Halloween. The females tend to flock to the sexy – sexy librarian, sexy cocktail waitress, sexy gorilla – anything that allows you to dress more revealing than you usually do and not risk being called names.

Femme fatales are hot, too. One of the hottest and most famous femme fatales is Lady MacBeth, the dark, determined woman who would see her husband king, morals be damned.

This week, in the spirit of Halloween, I wrote a tribute to the iron-willed heroine turned crazy lady of the Scottish Play.

People find out I sandboard and ask me a ton of questions, like I know what I’m doing or something. Let’s get one thing straight: I only sandboard every couple of years and only do when when my legs refuse to go on another mountain bike trip or I can’t afford to fly to some coast somewhere to go surfing.

Same thing with golf. When I tell folks I’m going golfing they always respond, “I didn’t know you golfed.” That’s because I don’t. Except on that particular day.

I’m no expert on the sand with a board. I use a cheapo plastic promotional board from Dannon and wear my Salomon snowboard boots, sweatpants, and some kind of warm windbreaker. Lucky for me the Great Sand Dunes National Park is only four (Annie leadfoot) hours from Denver and there’s some amazing hot springs on the way home.

So, I go. Last week I had the good fortune of 36 hours (pretty much) off, so I packed up Subi II with camping and sand/snowboard stuff.

I hiked up for about two hours, then sandboarded down the steepest lips of sand I could find. At one point I miscalculated, and the angle was too acute to gain momentum, and there I am, jumping up and down, pathetically trying to push myself forward. I unclipped my bindings and walked to a steeper, albeit shorter, lip.

Pictorial highlights below:

The road in from the south, near Alamosa

Nature's optical illusion

Optical illusion 2

First time in my life I've been tall and thin

The Sangre de Cristos in the background

Tall and thin twice in one day

Grasses in the wind

Brilliant color at sunset

No, I don't own Photoshop

Walked up that

Dannon and Sky

SheSpoke poses and readies

Dannon's ready

Steep, short, and safe

Boarding this lip was the day's highlight!

Or, they may have just enjoyed sitting by the river, enjoying sunny New Mexico days and dry nights within the comfort of a local’s home.

That local was Edith Warner, and once again, as a woman of history, she did not lead armies into battle or change public policy. She became a part of history by doing what women in the 1940s did everyday: making a comfortable home, homemade and to-die for chocolate cake.

Dudes like Oppenheimer, Bohrs, and Fermi would spend many hours at Warner’s cozy adobe home, trying to forget the days’ research. They were thankful for her undemanding company and her abilities in the kitchen.

Check out the article at GreatHistory.com.

Readers-

I am so behind in posting pix and words of my recent trips within the fair state of Colorado. The most recent, seen below, was a body-dirtying but soul cleansing long weekend near Colorado National Monument. Three days of hiking and biking. These photos are from the Monument itself. I was too exhausted and focused on the bike ride in Palisade to snap photos.

Familiar sandstone formation

Look boss, see trail!

Colors of the desert: ashen grey, soft sand, juniper green, and blue-blue sky

Yellow Alive!

Independence Monument

Book Cliffs in the Background

Looking up in awe at Colorado National Monument

Do these sandstone monoliths make me look fat?

Coke Ovens Sandstone

Solitary, rugged beauty

Ever since I was twelve and owned my first bicycle (a girly blue thing with flowers on it), I have known that life on two wheels = freedom. Even as my taste in bicycles has morphed over the years, I still feel, when I take my street bike out (an early 1990s steel Univega), that pedaling can take you farther than a feet can, and that there is no substitute for wind whooshing through one’s hair.

I have long been cognizant of how the bicycle sped along the epic, 76-year-long journey for women to get the right to vote.

And one woman, a Polish mother of three in Massachusetts, took to the streets of the world with her bicycle. Not for any political reason, mind you, but just to see if she could do it.

And she could. And she did. And eventually, they did too.

Read Annie Londonderry’s story here.

Readers-

I’ve got photos of the Colorado Rockies that I need to share with you. Next week I’m headed to Fruita, so they’ll be more from the Western Slope.

In the meantime, I continue to write for GreatHistory, a blog where history becomes more relevant than ever.

My lastest post for them is about my heroine, Mrs. Virginia Woolf. Take a read.

There’s the famous Georgia O’Keefe, of course. But as usual, there are dozens (maybe hundreds) of other female artists of her time, painting, etching, drawing, and otherwise creating beautiful moments of the early Southwest.

In preparing for the Humanities class I teach, I came across a wonderfully talented artist who painted that famous Ranchos de Taos Church using a technique called aquatint.

Check out Gene Kloss’s story.

I celebrated the Fourth of July this year by watching the oldest parade in the United States, in my former hometown f Bristol, Rhode Island. There I sat proudly, with my nieces, sister, brother-in-law, and mother and watched as bands from Minnesota, Native American tribes, historic firetrucks, and the dancing policeman marched by.

On July 4 we celebrate our indepedence from England and crazy King George III. On September 17, we celebrate (well, I’m not actually sure that many folks do that much celebrating) the document that gave us the right of free speech, the right to a speedy trial, the electoral college, the right to vote (if you’re black or a woman you didn’t automatically get those rights).

The Constitution also, ironically, gave us both the death penalty and abortion. Well, no document’s perfect, but I sure am glad this one’s mine.

Visit the Constitution Center’s website.

After two days of hiking and camping, we left the Black Canyon of the Gunnison on a glorious Sunday afternoon in mid-August. We followed the Gunnison River upstream, driving to the southernmost point along the North Rim.  We digitally Polaroided the entire way:

A River Rushes Through It (the canyon)

Same canyon, different rock formations

And then we bade goodbye to the Black Canyon of the Gunnison and headed north toward Hotchkiss along this road.

The road north

The town of Crawford boasts a beautiful mountain backdrop and the remnants of an old, very old volcano. We beelined for The Needle, as it’s called. We’d seen some old rock at the Black Canyon, and I was ready to see some more, but of a different kind.

The Needle in the foreground of the mountains

The Needle, up close

The Needle has a quarter-mile hiking trail, which is steep. And this being August, it was hot. I walked up for 20 minutes, took the picture below, and hiked back down.

Up close and personal with The Needle