Ancestral Puebloans-Part 4: Hovenweep

This is part 4 of a 4-part series.

Click here for part 1.

Click here for part 2.

Click here for part 3.

     Hovenweep National Monument was established in 1923. A lesser-known assembly of Ancestral Puebloan relics, it straddles the border of southwest Colorado and southeast Utah and is one of those hidden, out-of-the-way gems with enduring gravity, pulling us back repeatedly. Our fourth journey happened in early May of this year.

     Hovenweep is composed of six different sites, thought to harbor approximately 2500 inhabitants between 1200 and 1300 AD. Five outlying communities are chiefly accessible by four-wheel drive dirt roads or hiking trails. The main attraction is known as Little Ruin Canyon and lies near the handsome Visitor Center built in an emblematic southwestern style that resembles the former pueblos.

Hovenweep Visitor Center

A two mile hike allows relatively easy access to the round, square, and D-shaped towers characteristic of this locale. The route parallels the rim of the canyon, but also dips down into it. Legendary western pioneering photographer, William Henry Jackson (1843-1942), is credited for naming it Hovenweep, translatable as “deserted valley”, in the Ute/Paiute language. In 1874, he explored the region as a member of the famous Hayden Expedition which also enabled him to take the first photographs of Mesa Verde.

Sunrise and moonset

The early morning light bathes the ruins in warm tones

Close-up of one of the most intriguing ruins of Little Ruin Canyon, the “Eroded Bolder House” (I call it the shell)

     During our last two expeditions, we camped at the comparatively compact campground composed of 31 sites. A footpath connecting it to the nearby Little Ruin Trail encouraged repeat excursions. Ever since our first acquaintance, we have been enchanted by the local plants. Dark-green juniper and piñon pine, fragrant sagebrush, sword-like yucca, and colorful cacti were omnipresent and punctuated by smaller, more delicate wildflowers attractive to hummingbirds and other pollinators. A profusion of cliffrose dotted the rocky scenery and perfumed the air with their sweet scent. Despite the severity of the environment, the fauna was no less diverse than the flora: insects, lizards, birds, and mammals were amply represented.

Datil Yucca (many subspecies of this versatile plant exist)

Cliffrose lining Little Ruin Canyon

Penstemon after the rain

Collared Lizard

Blue-gray Gnatcatcher also liked to hang out in Little Ruin Canyon

     During the Ancestral Puebloans’ era, every material usable for food, fire, and clothes was harvested. Yucca alone delivered food (flowers), fiber (leaves), needles (leaf tips), and soap (root). Cactus pads were eaten. Stringy juniper bark provided fiber, padding, diapers, and toilet paper. Pine seeds represented high-energy morsels. Whether or not the pueblo dwellers lived in harmony with the land is interesting to ponder. There is evidence that, even after building stone houses, they temporarily moved from one settlement to the next, perhaps to allow the soil periods of recovery by letting it lie fallow. It is likely that they rotated crops. I can’t help thinking that a civilization who read the heavens for celestial signs would have failed to heed the lessons of the earth. Was it a prolonged dry spell that finally overrode all foresight and planning, and resulted in their departure 700 years ago? The walls of Hovenweep alone know.

     Lest we are left with overly romantic notions — life was harsh, life expectancy short. Hunger and thirst? Daily concerns. Armed conflict? Likely. Cannibalism? Possible. The Ancestral Puebloans were human beings with human foibles. But they also inspire and invite us to return time and again, and to immerse ourselves in this intriguing world still open to interpretation. Their exodus, their remarkable relics, their picturesque petroglyphs and pictographs raise more questions than answers, and their secrets survive.

     Who were these Ancestral Puebloans?

Click here for the German version/klicken Sie bitte hier für die deutsche Version:…teil-4-hovenweep/

Ancestral Puebloans-Part 3: Mesa Verde

    This is part 3 of a 4-part series.

Click here for part 1.

Click here for part 2.

Click here for part 4.

     Once Chaco Canyon lost its prominent role, due to natural or man-made causes, Mesa Verde saw its star shine brightly, before it, too, flickered, then faded. American Indians had lived on this part of the Colorado Plateau, which now lies in southwest Colorado, since the mid-500s, first on mesa tops in pit houses, then in aboveground stone constructions. From 1150 on, they built extensive pueblos in alcoves of reddish sandstone, the picturesque backdrop of the iconic images many of us envision when we think of Ancestral Puebloans. In fewer than one hundred years they departed. Here as elsewhere, the reasons are still debated. Historians often point to the defensive position of these pueblos in support of the theory that drought and famine led to warfare and, finally, to the dispersal of the clans.

     Mesa Verde became a National Park in 1906 and a World Heritage Site in 1979. My husband and I explored it twice, in 2009 and 2011. When we drove past its entrance during a trip to the area in May of this year, we regretted not having time for a third foray. But we reminisced about former sojourns, following the road into the park in our mind’s eye. Soon after the turn-off from Colorado Highway 160, a spur reaches the main Visitor Center. Even if travelers are unable to explore the park in depth, a stopover here will give an overview of one of Colorado’s best-loved National Parks. At the four mile marker, the road passes the campground (open from mid-May until mid-October), before it slowly winds up to the top of the mesa with its superb views of the surrounding scenery. After 15 miles, the road branches into two. One leads to Chapin, the other to Wetherill Mesa.

     Chapin Mesa is home to the Cliff Palace (featured image on top) and Balcony House, perhaps the best-known and most-photographed dwellings. Because of many years of pillaging, wanton destruction, and safety concerns, they are only accessible by ranger-led tours. Reservations are typically available for the same day. Self-guided tours are possible at Spruce Tree House. The Chapin Mesa Archeological Museum offers detailed information about the history of the Ancestral Puebloans. Nearby, remnants of earlier pit houses have been excavated. The impressive Sun Temple is thought to represent a ceremonial center, unfinished at the time the Mesa Verdeans left their habitations. Former check dams and reservoirs illustrate various ways to collect water. While this was indispensable for everyday purposes, farmers supposedly used dryland techniques, without artificial irrigation.

Balcony House

Kiva without a roof. A ceremonial chamber thought to represent the place of emergence of the people.

Kivas at Spruce Tree House with roofs and central openings, accessed with a ladder.

Original interior decoration

Sun Temple

Cactus thrive on rocky surfaces

     Wetherill Mesa is open only from May through September, weather permitting. Its major residences are Long House (ranger-led only), and Step House (self-guiding). This portion of the park is named after Richard Wetherill (1858-1910), a well-known if controversial figure in the annals of several ancient pueblos in the Four Corners region. Hailing from a Colorado ranching family, he is credited with the discovery of Cliff Palace. He seemed genuinely moved and inspired by those uncharted stone structures filled with daily implements, food, even human skeletons, but might have been at least partially responsible for their subsequent theft or sale to collectors and museums. Thus he may be considered the first in a line of pothunters who continue their misdeeds to this day. In 1901, he moved to Chaco Canyon and tried to establish a homestead on land surrounding the local ruins. When Chaco became a National Monument, he relinquished his claim, but continued to run a trading post there. He was shot in 1910 and is buried not far from Pueblo Bonito.

Square Tower House, one of several smaller pueblos within Mesa Verde

     Mesa Verde was our first acquaintance with the design of the Ancestral Puebloans, and the elegant masonry nestled between two strata of sandstone left indelible impressions. Here, too, many pieces of the puzzle of this fascinating culture remain missing.

     Who were these Ancestral Puebloans?

Click here for the German version/klicken Sie bitte hier für die deutsche Version:…eil-3-mesa-verde/

Ancestral Puebloans Part 1: Overview

In the Four Corners region of the United States, where Colorado, New Mexico, Arizona, and Utah meet and the Colorado Plateau dominates countryside and climate, the land is riddled with innumerable ruins. Ruins reminiscent of complex societies that eked out an existence in this semi-arid to arid high desert. Once formerly nomadic American Indian tribes settled, they fashioned permanent structures out of local rock and wood and plastered them with adobe fashioned from dirt and water, thereby transforming their habitations into edifices the color of the earth. They rang in what would later be called the Pueblo Period, spanning the centuries from 700 to 1300 AD.

Four Corners region of Colorado

Clusters of these pueblos lined canyon interiors and rims, or were nestled under overhangs, nearly all of them chosen for the proximity of a spring or seep that ensured a steady supply of water. Piñon pines, junipers, sagebrush, and the associated plant community furnished material for construction, firewood, clothing, and food.

Juniper/sagebrush plant community

Juniper berries, a food source

Wild animals still supplemented their diet and dress, but their hunting and gathering lifestyle shifted to one relying heavily on agriculture which produced the southwestern holy trinity of foodstuffs: corn and beans and squash. An infinite sky with an unobstructed view of countless celestial constellations inspired purposefully placed petroglyphs that precisely pinpointed vernal and autumnal solstices and additional astronomical phenomena.

Astronomical petroglyphs

Petroglyphs (rock carvings, depicted here) and pictographs (rock drawings, not shown here) are the only “written” documentation of the Ancestral Puebloans

Who were these people, to parrot my husband’s deferential question. When modern-day observers first beheld their monumental settlements, they adopted the appellation Anasazi for their architects, from the Navajo language, meaning “ancient enemies” or “ancient foreigners”. According to early observers, they seemed to have vanished from the face of the earth. In recent decades, this view has been replaced by the theory that they dispersed into surrounding regions, and mingled with the ancestors of contemporary pueblo dwellers. Consequently, the term Anasazi was supplanted by the name Ancestral Puebloans.

Cacti thrive in the arid climate…

…so do lizards

Raven on ruins

Why did these rulers of remote reaches abandon their carefully constructed communities that had withstood the caprices of centuries? Nobody knows exactly, but theories abound. That water equals life rings true everywhere, but nowhere is this more evident than in an ecosystem which operates on the slimmest margin of moisture, where the presence of this essential element is indicated by scarce emerald ribbons winding through the pastels of the desert. Did they depart because of a paucity of this precious product, when one decade of drought succeeded another, as tree ring analysis suggests? Did overuse lead to depletion of the soil, to ensuing tensions, and to armed conflict over precious commodities? As one question is answered, another arises, and many remain.

Who were these Ancestral Puebloans?

Click here for the German version/klicken Sie bitte hier für die deutsche Version:

This is part 1 of a 4-part series.

Klick here for part 2.

Click here for part 3.

Click here for part 4.

Serenity Lake

Certain locations exert strong powers over our imagination. One such charmed destination for me is Manitou Lake in neighboring Teller County. I think of it as “Serenity Lake” which captures its character perfectly, as I was reminded during an excursion in late July/early August. The lake is nestled in an idyllic broad mountain valley which offers superb views of Pikes Peak’s north face, and a home to a wide array of attractive denizens.

Pikes Peak with a halo early in the morning

Pikes Peak with its own cloudscape later in the day

Because Manitou Lake is Teller County’s top birding “hotspot”, according to ebird, it has accommodated my birding group’s annual picnic repeatedly. This year’s get-together was the impetus behind the visit, but I tagged on a few days. Once we had engaged in ornithological observations and culinary excesses, and my fellow birders (about whom I will write more in the future) had flown away, I continued to engage in my favorite pastime. Without enumerating every avian sighting, one that regularly recurred was a Spotted Sandpiper. It proved very cooperative and photogenic, gladdening this hopeless watcher’s heart because it is one of the few shorebirds I can somewhat reliably – well, occasionally – correctly identify.

I am even more hopeless when it comes to insects, but in that regard am content to admire their myriad shapes, shades, and sizes, and grateful when one poses long enough to get my camera into gear.

I do recognize the ubiquitous, curious, and impossibly cute Golden-mantled ground squirrels. Next to providing additional enchanting and entertaining wildlife encounters, they totally stole my heart.

While Manitou Lake is now an exclusive day-use area, camping is possible at three nearby Forest Service campgrounds. I chose South Meadows, about two miles away, to pitch my shelter for two nights. My stay coincided with a string of sunny days sandwiched between a row of rainy ones, precipitation being the predominant pattern in previous weeks, compliments of our “monsoons”. Long-term regional residents did not used to refer to Colorado’s summer rains this way, but contemporary meteorologists seem compelled to apply this tropical term to our decidedly non-tropical climate.

Monsoons or not, the rains have clearly contributed to a state of botanical exuberance in a state famed for its wildflowers, but not necessarily for its lushness. In the mixed conifer-aspen forest, in the verdant meadows, and in the saturated wetlands surrounding Manitou Lake, colorful blossoms brightened each hike and served as floral reminders of the preciousness of the period, and of the enthusiastic energy of our earth.

At 7,700 feet elevation, daytime temperatures in the high 60s to low 70s were very comfortable and my sleeping bag kept me sufficiently warm when they dropped into the 40s at night. A starry firmament followed partly sunny skies. The waxing moon peeked through my open tent fly before it dipped behind the western horizon. In retrospect, I could have dispensed with this external shell, as the heavens held back the buckets until about an hour after I had taken down my temporary domicile. We Coloradans are spoiled by sunshine and grow grouchy when it stays away for extended periods. I benefitted doubly from my brief getaway at this serene site: by experiencing one of the few dry windows in our recent wet weather, and by witnessing several sunrises and sunsets, as well as nature’s incessant, indefatigable goings-on.

Click here for the German version/klicken Sie bitte hier für die deutsche Version:

Summer Sorrow

     At the height of summer, after an evening of sustained rains, Fountain Creek is a ruddy river. The mountains remain shrouded in layers of clouds. Instead of paths there are puddles, the air is pregnant with moisture, and the vegetation with dewy droplets. Slightly sluggish avian and insect activity accelerates with the rising sun. Alas, mosquitoes are not among those handicapped by the high humidity. On trails bordered by wet grasses my shoes and socks become soaked.

     The flora is in full bloom or has gone to seed. I am greeted by the golden smiles of manifold sunflowers. Despite a bounty of milkweed, I see a lone Monarch butterfly. Grasshoppers disperse before my approach, one group to the right, the other to the left.

Baby birds are everywhere, growing up fast. The avian mood differs from the urgent wooing and coupling of spring. Now is a time for family joys and challenges, with hungry infants, toddlers, or teenagers constantly begging for food and attention. Is it my imagination, or do the parents show exasperation? Their biologic goal fulfilled, they don’t have as many reasons to sing. Other than the squealing in the nurseries, it is relatively quiet. Adult robins’ plumage is past its prime, but the juveniles’ appears adorned with brilliant beads. Swallows sail on shiny wings, forever the aerial acrobats. While hyperactive wrens work their way through the woods, velvety waxwings gorge themselves on berries, goldfinches on thistle seed.

     There is loveliness wherever I gaze. I sate my soul with this life-affirming commotion. But interlaced with my joy is melancholy. Why am I sad? Is it because of the knowledge that natural habitats are diminishing? Because this enclave teeming with energy is encircled by development, and there are not nearly enough similar refuges? Because many animals will sally south soon? Because summer will be followed by fall and winter, by dormancy, if not death? Because of (wo)mankind’s inability to coexist peacefully, with fellow humans, and with other species? Because our exquisite, unequalled earth seems on the verge of the abyss? Because of love and loved ones lost?

     I am not alone in my wistfulness. “In the midst of life we are in death,” is a saying dating to medieval times, but reflecting a sentiment likely as old as humanity. Perhaps I am feeling it so acutely because nature’s vitality has peaked? Sad as I might be, it is comforting to know that the earth, for now, will continue in its orbit around the sun, and life in its inexorable, heart-rending beauty.

Click here for the German version/klicken Sie bitte hier für die deutsche Version:

A Stroll in our State Park

Cheyenne Mountain State Park opened its gates in 2006. Even though this coincided with our return to Colorado Springs, it originally did not engender curiosity enough to make us pay the $7 entrance fee, when the area offers a host of alternative outdoor playgrounds, all free of charge. That changed a few years back, when we invested in an annual pass which affords unlimited entry to all of Colorado’s 42 state parks, for $70. We soon realized how effortlessly we exceeded 10 visits in a 12 month period.

Among our intermittent destinations are Castlewood Canyon State Park in neighboring Douglas County and Mueller State Park in Teller County, but Cheyenne Mountain State Park’s proximity to our house is a decided advantage — to reach its entrance from our driveway takes under 10 minutes. Situated just south of Colorado Springs, off Colorado Highway 115, El Paso County’s first and to date only state park is nestled at the foot of Cheyenne Mountain, famous in olden days for being much loved by Helen Hunt Jackson, local author and Indian activist extraordinaire, and, in contemporary times, for concealing NORAD (North American Aerospace Defense Command) in its man-made caves and conduits. The land used to be a homestead and was saved from a housing development by the combined efforts of the city, the county, an association of state parks, and a number of private organizations.

Twenty miles of trails invite hiking and biking across differing terrain. My husband makes occasional use of the archery range to practice with his recurve bow. Sporadically, we participate in bird and wildflower outings, as well as in literary walks which have as their central theme writers of regional interest. They commence with a biographical overview at the Visitor Center, and culminate with a reading in the ”rock garden”, accessible by a short stroll. The popular campground is typically filled on summer weekends and holidays, mostly with RVs, but two walk-in tent loops are also in high demand.

Visitor Center

Rock Garden

From the access road, the scenery unfolds like a canvas. The grassland of the lower reaches is punctuated by wildflowers. Yellow stalks of mullein, pink heads of thistle, and snowy disks of prickly poppies peep out of the green. Prairie coneflowers wear sun-colored skirts, creamy yucca blossoms dangle like garlands between the bayonet-like leaves. This prairie-like environment also harbors winding warrens for prairie dogs. Their chirping sounds I interpret as a friendly greeting. Mobs of magpies attempt to drown out the marvelous music of Western meadowlarks in vain. Tree swallows line the fences near their nesting boxes. The foothill scrub oak and juniper plant community of intermediate elevations is the preferred habitat of Spotted Towhees and Scrub Jays. At higher altitudes, it gives way to a predominantly coniferous forest, with aspen interspersed now and again. Vanilla-scented Ponderosa Pine hide Hermit Thrushes whose haunting melodies float down the hillside. Invisible silken strings stretch across the trails, dragon- and butterflies flutter by on soundless wings.

Impressions from the trail: The rock tree

Impressions from the trail: Culturally modified tree, the creation of Ute Indians

Prickly Poppy

Prairie Coneflower

An occasional summer visitor with an onomatopoeic name: Dickcissel

Mule Deer

We are content to explore the existing routes in changing combinations, yet are pleased about the prospect of a path leading to the very top of Cheyenne Mountain, heretofore off limits. Currently under construction, it is slated to open in the foreseeable future and will add another attraction to a favorite retreat right at our doorstep, with an even loftier view of the park and its environs.

Click here for the German version/klicken Sie bitte hier für die deutsche Version:

The Original Helen Hunt

Out-of-town visitors to Colorado Springs regularly think of the present-day Hollywood actress when Helen Hunt’s name comes up during my tours as a volunteer docent at the Pioneers Museum. Both share a name and a relationship to California, but Helen Hunt, the First (1830-1885), was a pioneering woman and writer during our town’s infancy, in the latter half of the 19th century. Her initial impressions were inauspicious. “I shall never forget my sudden sense of hopeless disappointment at the moment when I first looked on the town. There stretched before me, to the east, a bleak, bare, unrelieved desolate plain. There rose behind me, to the west, a dark range of mountains, snow-topped, rocky-walled, stern, cruel, relentless. Between lay the town-small, straight, new, treeless. One might die of such a place alone.” No chamber of commerce would advertise these words on its banner. It is ironic that Colorado Springs did, in time, pride itself of the person who expressed them and name the popular waterfalls in North Cheyenne Cañon after her.

Helen Hunt Falls in North Cheyenne Cañon

Helen Hunt, née Fiske, was 43 years old in November 1873 when she suffered these somber sensations after a cross-country train journey across the flat, monochromatic Great Plains from her home in Massachusetts to Colorado. Knowing about her past life, they are understandable. Motherless since age 13, fatherless since 16, she had lost her 11 month-old son Murray at 23, her 42 year-old husband Edward B. Hunt when she was 32, and her nine year-old son Warren at 34. Ill at heart and ill in body, she came at the behest of her physician, who recommended a change of scenery for a chronic respiratory condition. Before the antibiotic era, Colorado, by virtue of its healthy climate, was among the premiere destinations for health seekers suffering from consumption. During a period of frequent misdiagnosis, Helen might have been afflicted by tuberculosis, but officially it was asthma.

Fortunately for the burgeoning community at the foot of Pikes Peak, founded only two years prior, the dry air of the mountains did, indeed, benefit her health, while their beauty lifted her spirits. Helen decided to stay, after a complete reversal of her earlier attitude. In an essay about her new home in the New York Independent in August 1874, less than a year after her arrival, she reflected, “To-day I say, one could almost live on such a place alone.” “Almost” because she continued to love and pursue travel.

While mourning in Massachusetts, Helen Hunt had started to compose and publish poetry. Once she voyaged abroad, travelogues ensued. Her circle of friends in New England included Ralph Waldo Emerson, Harriet Beecher Stowe, and Emily Dickinson, with whom she had attended boarding school in New York. They corresponded throughout Helen’s lifetime and she encouraged Emily to publish her poems in vain (they appeared only posthumously). Once settled in Colorado, Helen added novelist to her résumé. She belonged to an elite group of women authors able to make a living from their craft.

Colorado Springs, designed on a drawing board and in an early state of growth, did not yet offer many accommodations. Helen resided at the Colorado Springs Hotel, the settlement’s earliest, where she met fellow boarder William Sharpless Jackson. He was secretary and treasurer of the Denver and Rio Grande Railroad which, like Colorado Springs, had been founded by General William Jackson Palmer. Helen and Mr. Jackson’s friendship led to marriage in 1875.

Four years later, a lecture by Ponca Chief Standing Bear altered the course of Helen’s few remaining years. She researched the mistreatment of the Indians and became an outraged and outspoken activist on their behalf. In 1881, she distributed her critical treatise, A Century of Dishonor, to members of Congress. Though it remained largely unnoticed, it led to an assignment by Century Magazine to explore the situation of the Indians of the former Spanish missions in Southern California. She subsequently managed to have herself appointed a special agent by the Commissioner for Indian Affairs, and described the Indians’ pitiable living conditions and prospects. It also moved her to fictionalize their predicament. In a May 2, 1883 letter to the editor of the Atlantic Monthly she articulated her ambitions thus, “If I could write a story that would do for the Indians a thousandth part what Uncle Tom’s Cabin did for the Negro, I would be thankful for the rest of my life.”

In her novel Ramona, feverishly written in four months, and published in 1884, she conveyed her indignation. A tragedy about the ill-fated love between an American Indian man and a mixed-race Indian-Scottish woman, raised as an orphan by a family of Spanish-Mexican heritage, it delves into the racial prejudices and abuses suffered by the Indians of the Catholic missions in the former Mexican territory of California which was ceded to the United States after the Mexican-American War (1846-1848).

While the extent to which Helen Hunt’s reporting effected Indian policy reforms has been difficult to quantify, her novel Ramona became a literary bestseller. It has been in print since 1884, adapted for multiple film versions, and, since 1923, performed annually as a drama at the Ramona Pageants in Hemet, California.

Sadly, Helen’s death soon followed the birth of her masterpiece. I sincerely hope that the sale of more than 15,000 copies in the 10 months between its publication and her passing, was gratifying to her. True to her convictions till the end, she beseeched President Grover Cleveland to correct the wrongs inflicted on the Indians from her deathbed in California, where she was trying to recuperate. On August 2, 1885, she succumbed to presumptive stomach cancer at only 54, with William by her side.

Helen loved Cheyenne Mountain in Colorado Springs so much that her husband had remodeled their house to enable her to view it from her chambers. Now he honored her wish and buried her in the mountain’s shadow, at Inspiration Point near Seven Falls, already a tourist attraction in her days. She lay interred under a growing mound of rocks, lovingly placed by the hands of her many fans who pilgrimaged to the site.

Helen Hunt’s former resting place near Inspiration Point (with the wrong year of birth)

View of modern-day Colorado Springs from Helen Hunt’s former resting place near Inspiration Point

Eventually, she was relocated to the Jackson family plot at Evergreen Cemetery. It is consoling for her acolytes to know that her grave is the one closest to, and with a direct view of the mountain which she so cherished.

Helen Hunt’s resting place at Evergreen Cemetery, with a view of Cheyenne Mountain

When the city acquired the Jackson property in 1961 and the house was slated for demolition, the family donated portions of her domicile to the Colorado Springs Pioneers Museum, which showcases four of Helen’s original rooms and furnishings in a permanent exhibition.

Colorado Springs Pioneers Museum

Portions of Helen Hunt’s dining room and library in the preserved rooms at the museum

Helen Hunt Jackson occupies a special place among the early citizens of Colorado Springs. Her indomitable spirit allowed her to overcome one blow of fate after another, and her American Indian activism was unusual for a woman of her era and social standing. In our local historic universe, she shines as one of the brightest stars.

Click here for the German version/klicken Sie bitte hier für die deutsche Version:

Helen Hunt’s portrait came from a photograph I took of a postcard issued by the Pikes Peak Library District. Photographer and date unknown.