Today while the twins were napping, I decided to get a little exercise, so I hiked along a mile-long walking trail that circles a small lake that is no more than a five- or ten-minute walk from my son and his wife's house. When I got halfway around the lake, this is what I saw:
I think I finally understand why John Denver had to sing about this "Rocky Mountain high, Colorado" stuff. I feel like singing, too, out here smack dab in the middle of all this rugged beauty! When we were hiking in the "Garden of the Gods" a few days ago, I allowed my appreciation of my surroundings to be hindered just a tad by the fear that a rattlesnake or a bear would pop out of the woods onto the trail. Today, walking around this sweet little lake and looking at the piercingly blue sky, the cotton ball clouds, and the majestic mountains, and then seeing them reflected on the mirror-like surface of the lake, I forgot all about my silly East Coaster's nervousness about the Wild, Wild West and just felt utterly at peace.