For hundreds of years alchemists mixed many different substances, boiled them, stirred them, froze them, ground them, dissolved them, all in the hopes of making gold out of base material. Today we know better, it just can’t be done. Or can it?

Our friends Martin and Nancy Vandevisse had moved to Colorado from back east. Being flatlanders they were intrigued by the Rocky Mountains and were eager to explore. So we invited them to join us on a short fishing trip.

They thoroughly enjoyed the scenery and we enjoyed showing them the mountains. And as it was getting late we decided to take a shortcut through some wonderful up and down country. There were also a number of hairpin curves.

But then I noticed Nancy on the backseat slumped over, her face in her hands. I slowed to get ready to stop when I heard her say to her husband, “let me know when it’s over”. I stopped, I apologized and I promised to make amends some day.

That day arrived the following May. We decided to take our trailer to the Gates of lodore, the mouth of the Green river canyon. But we dawdled too long over lunch. And that was why we turned into what looked like a seldom used gravel road. It was dark by then, but we soon found a nice level spot for our trailer.

We set up camp and just started dinner when the cows came to investigate who had invaded their territory. Now I remembered driving through an open gate. And with flashlight in hand I hurried to close it before the cattle found their escape hole.

Morning arrived with glorious sunshine and a promise of a glorious day, as it should be, it was Mother’s Day.

Martin had threatened to be the chef for our breakfast. While he was getting ready to do his magic on the tiny stove the girls decided to go for a morning walk. Me he simply chased out with get a ‘get out of my way’.

I left to return just in time to watch Martin set the breakfast table. Now I could make my confession. I retrieved four glasses and the bottle of champagne I had smuggled on board as a Mother’s Day surprise.

But I had one more surprise. While Martin had slaved over the stove I had wandered around and just outside the gate I had found some tall golden dandelions. Nearby was a small discarded bottle, just right for a vase. And two steps further some shiny blue plastic to wrap the bottle in.

The breakfast was a huge success. I can’t recall Marin’s culinary creations, only that they were superb. The champagne in our glasses bubbled and so did our spirits. But what most tugged at the ladies’ heart strings were the flowers on the table.

I had finally found the secret the alchemists had been looking for in vain for hundreds of years, to make gold out of base materials.