Michael Driscoll was filming protests in downtown Denver last year when a police projectile slammed into his forehead, shattered his sinus and fractured his skull in two places.

The injury required skull reconstruction surgery that left him with 53 staples across his head, according to a federal lawsuit Driscoll filed Monday against Denver, police Chief Paul Pazen and police Cmdr. Patrick Phelan.

Driscoll, a welder, had to take a month off work to recover and will likely not be able to pursue a career as an underwater welder as planned because his skull might not be able to withstand the pressure of diving, said Milo Schwab, Driscoll’s attorney.

The lawsuit alleges the unidentified officer who shot him used excessive force and that the department and its leaders should be held liable because they did not properly train or supervise the officer.

“(Driscoll) could’ve died,” Schwab said. “If they had struck him two inches higher on his forehead, the risk of death was very high.”

The lawsuit adds to the growing collection of at least six suits — representing more than 60 plaintiffs — filed against the city alleging Denver police officers used excessive force and injured peaceful protesters in May and June of 2020. The department’s response to the protests has been widely criticized and an investigation into the department’s response by the city’s watchdog agency found it was flawed at nearly every level. The department opened 123 internal investigations into officers’ conduct, but few officers will be disciplined.

Driscoll drove up from Pueblo on May 30, 2020, to join the massive protests of police brutality and George Floyd’s murder by a Minneapolis police officer. After a day of protesting, he decided to continue demonstrating the following day.

Driscoll’s video footage of the incident shows a crowd of protesters demonstrating about 10 p.m. May 31, 2020, at the intersection of West 13th Avenue and Cherokee Street near Denver police headquarters. The protesters chanted “I can’t breathe” and “Hands up, don’t shoot” toward a line of police officers dozens of yards away. The video does not show the group of protesters marching toward the officers or throwing anything at them. People in the crowd can be heard in the video urging others to remain peaceful.

Without an audible warning or command to disperse, the officers began to launch gas containers and other projectiles toward the crowd, the video shows. Driscoll’s video shows him raising a piece of wood, which the lawsuit stated was a homemade shield he made to protect himself. The plywood shield had “ACAB” painted on it, an acronym that stands for “all cops are bastards.”

A projectile then struck Driscoll, who can be heard groaning in the video. Other people in the crowd can be heard in the video shouting “He’s bleeding!” and “Who’s a medic!” as they walked with Driscoll away from the intersection.

A stranger drove Driscoll to Denver Health, where a doctor found two skull fractures that shattered his sinus, the lawsuit states. Driscoll underwent surgery three days later. Surgeons had to use a graft from a different part of his skull to repair the damage, according to the lawsuit.

Driscoll continues to suffer pain and headaches from the injury, Schwab said. He also has large medical bills from his hospitalization and surgery.

Schwab said his client is not exactly sure what kind of projectile police shot at him but believes it was likely a foam or rubber round.

Denver police used 40 mm foam rounds during the protests. According to department policy, officers are only to use the less-lethal weapon against someone who is aggressive toward them or to prevent serious injury. The 40 mm launchers used by Denver police fire their projectiles at more than 200 mph, according to the Office of the Independent Monitor, which conducted an investigation into how Denver police responded to the 2020 racial justice protests.

Autumn begins like a whisper, stirring among the trees. One green leaf turns gold. We barely notice until the treetops are aflame with light. Through shortening days and lengthening nights, the transformation is guileless in its beauty.

Drawn to awe by the humble grandeur of what has given its all, we reach for ways to keep the glory with us a little longer.

Distinctive beauty

“This is a season to cherish. It is fleeting. We need to etch it in our minds,” said Linda Sadler, motioning to a single red leaf in the yellow celebration festooning the gray branches of her ash tree. Linda is a colleague of mine at Tagawa Gardens, an experienced perennial team member, and a garden coach.

“I’ve always loved beautiful things,” Sadler enthused as we stood on her brick walkway in Centennial, framed by leaning verbena bonariensis sparkling in the late afternoon light.

In a walk around her home, we admired the chartreuse glow of New Mexico privet, the balletic arch of lavatera, the stout tufts of Redbor kale, the yellow-gold airiness of Amsonia hubrichtii, and the slender cabernet leaves of euphorbia Bonfire.

“If I want a plant, I will have it,” Sadler said with conviction, touching the specimen plants that she has gone far and wide to procure for her garden.

“When I just think I’m going to be done with my garden, it lasts about a day, and at night, I’m already dreaming of what I’m going to plant next,” she laughed ruefully.

Sadler dries as much loveliness as she plants. As we wandered inside, her daughter, Katie, recalled Christmas cookie tins filled with silica gel and dried flowers. Linda instantly pulled one such tin from beneath an upholstered chair, running her fingers through bright remnants of petals.

More natural treasures awaited us in every elegant room. A garland of leaves dangled above a pristine white mantel. A clutch of dried fern fronds arched delicately near a small lamp, its gold stem entwined by perennial statice and masterwort. An atlas from the study revealed a trove of burgundy and gold leaves. A blush of hydrangea lay on an end table.

Most spectacular was a white chandelier hung with single dried stems of roses, peonies, paperwhites, hydrangea and larkspur. Even a white tulip held its fragile form.

For the Thanksgiving table that will soon be arrayed beneath, Linda hollows a white pumpkin, settles a glass vessel inside, and creates a natural centerpiece with wild stems and white snowberry from her garden.

Simple inspiration

For Vanessa Martin, a fallen leaf is a muse. Detailing the simple elements of nature, Martin’s botanical work brings to life what may otherwise be overlooked.

Taking a walk nearly every day in her Aurora neighborhood, she doesn’t set out to find something but to simply see what’s there. “I do what’s in front of me,” she said.

A fallen leaf on the sidewalk, a tulip in the garden, a bird on a branch — these simplicities become the story of her art. “They are silly little stories, but that is how it becomes meaningful.”

“No one would have guessed that I would become an artist,” Martin laughed, sharing her journey through commercial real estate before finding her way into the School of Botanical Art and Illustration at Denver Botanic Gardens. “I made it work. I was determined, because I loved doing it. I would travel and go right from the airport to class. If you really want to do something, you will find a way.”

Fusing traditional botanical illustration with what she calls a pinch of contemporary style, Martin wants her art to be accessible to a large audience.

“People are part of my process. It is not enough for me to just create something,” she said. She recognizes an emerging hunger for art in a younger audience, stirring her hope that it will be appreciated by a new generation.

After many years using watercolor, colored pencils and graphite, Martin discovered printmaking. Much of her current work is Intaglio. Arranging several prints on the table for me to see, Martin plies multiple artistic techniques to create texture, dimension and subtle color in her work.

“With abstract, you have to stand back; with mine, you have to get close,” Martin said.

While Martin’s artistry has developed through the years, her work is still grounded by frequent walks and the long-held desire to “inspire art lovers to appreciate the beauty of a dried fallen leaf or a yucca pod that has spilled its seeds.”

Supplied by nature

Many years ago, Martin’s exquisite yucca pod became my first piece of botanical art. I am enthralled by seed pods.

Wherever I’ve lived, I’ve displayed dramatic stems and natural arrangements. Borne of the Nebraska prairie, I inherited this delight from my grandma and my mom. Our hands are the same, reaching for simple treasures and finding in them the joy we need to go on.

While visiting Nebraska for harvest this September, I ventured into the prairie with a small pruning shear, filling my arms with arching grasses, glittering goldenrod, and weathered seed heads. Returning to Denver with this autumn trove, I arranged the stems by color and arrayed them in vases, just as I have done since childhood.

But what wildness is here to harvest in our suburban Colorado gardens? Determined to create from my own doorstep, I studied each of my unsuspecting garden plants for new possibilities. After several excursions through the backyard and various closets, I gathered a surprising tangle of dried seed heads and craft supplies. With sturdy hollyhock, slender obedient plant, dried poppy heads, blush pink sedum, and two Queen Elizabeth roses crumpled by first frost, I made a simple dried wreath for the front door.

It was the same front door where a purple finch nested in the trailing begonia this year. After she and her watchful mate raised their brood, the little nest remained — a token of their patient artistry. I saved the nest and arranged it on a shelf with a small book, a framed flower from Ireland, a piece of Eastern European pottery holding two allium heads, and a clear jar of downy milkweed seeds that I’ve had for at least a decade.

As with most treasures, it simply begins with noticing and cherishing what you have. This is what my grandma and my mom taught me, their hands turning simplicity into special beauty.

Even after it is spent, the garden continues to give. Take to your own garden with an eye for possibility. What might you create with what you have?

Pick up a leaf, hold it in your hand, or press it into the pages of a beloved book. Take the beauty into your soul, and in that earnest way, bring the outdoors in.

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To paraphrase a classic by singer-songwriter Joni Mitchell, Comcast wants to pave a prairie dog paradise and put up a parking lot.

The telecommunications company plans to build a new parking lot next to its regional corporate offices in the Iliff Business Park at 7770 E. Iliff Ave., in unincorporated Arapahoe County, but animal rights activists say the plan threatens a colony of 60 to 80 black-tailed prairie dogs.

Now, the company, the activists and staff from Arapahoe County Open Spaces are trying to find a new home for the animals before construction begins.

Finding a new home, though, isn’t as simple as trapping prairie dogs and then driving them to a new plot of land. First, the new location must be identified and researched to make sure it’s a suitable habitat. Colorado Parks and Wildlife must issue a permit, said Shannon Carter, director of Arapahoe County Open Spaces. And Carter promises the county wouldn’t move prairie dogs to a place where nearby landowners would be affected.

“We’re not the only agency that has to deal with this,” Carter said. “Whenever development happens and displaces wildlife there’s never an easy solution.”

Jeremy Gregory, executive director of Tindakan, a nonprofit eco-justice organization, said he is hopeful the Arapahoe County Open Spaces director can find a new home in the coming weeks.

“The jury is still out on this, but hopefully we are nearing a decision that is going to be non-lethal and a win for everybody here,” Gregory said.