Sitting in the sun in a quiet spot on the banks of the creek that runs through Morraine Park in RMNP is a luxury. The bridge (in the photo) that carries hikers over that stream echoed few footsteps and fewer voices for most of the afternoon I spent absorbing and resting in nature's beauty--the tinkling stream, the colors of late fall grasses, the changing colors of the creek as the sun moved closer to the mountain peaks in the distance.
I was recently reminded that both a deep connection to nature and the opportunity to luxuriate and melt into a spot with special beauty is a gift that even those who live in this glorious mountain area often find themselves too busy to enjoy. As I find myself again working at a job (in my daughter's design business), I remember that getting out means making it a priority, and finding time to write means getting up earlier.
As winter decends, it's a different kind of beauty that we experience. But for my November immersion, each blade of grass, each rock, each water's ripple filled me with wonder. Which mountain pass had the water trickled through on its journey? How many hundreds or thousands (or more) years had it taken those rocks to become so smooth? Would the grass that grows next spring be a resurgence of the blades that surrounded me as I sat in their midst--or would they be the offspring?
Had the years softened my jagged edges? Had my journey given me more compassion? Would winter allow for deepening spirit and love that would shine in the darkness and flower in the spring? What does winter mean in a spiritual sense? These are but a few of many questions to ponder that occur at this writing. Let's find ways to take time to ponder as the days grow short--and to enjoy winter's beauty.
And yes, I wanted you to see some of what I saw. I took the distance, bridge and rock shots without moving from where I sat on the banks of the stream. I was so blessed!