my mountains

I admit, choosing between the mountains and the beach, I would choose the beach. Why? Not sure, that's just me. But these are my mountains. Removed from the 14er that towered over my childhood home and gifted me with a bedroom window view to covet, I claim these. I lived near Estes Park, CO for one summer in college and it is still and will for always be my favorite mountain town. Rocky Mountain National Park feels like home. That summer, I decided to learn to love the mountains for more than my window view. I didn't want to waste my mountain summer. So I hiked and hiked and hiked. Nearly every day or every other day, I would drive into the park and explore. Long hikes with a friend or friends, short hikes or strolls on my own. And these became my mountains.

Recently my husband and I got to spend a weekend back at the YMCA of the Rockies where we had worked those many summers ago. We drove into the park to Sprague Lake, an easy stroll, but at lower elevation so it wouldn't be buried in snow this time of year. We walked, conversing some, observing much, and I took pictures. It is calming and stress relieving for me. I love photography. And after nearly 14 years of marriage, my husband understands this about me. He'll wait for me, let me fiddle with the dials on my camera, capturing the same shot again and again until I like the artistry. I am amateur, but that's okay with me. It was a nice afternoon.

This looks like liquid water, but it's all ice...