|Lumpy Ridge near town of Estes Park. The rock that sticks up to the left of center represented God for me the winter of 1999-2000 when I lived there knowing no one really.|
|The snow continues to melt, though the high peaks are mostly covered. This was taken from my friend, Mary Ann's yard in mid-May.|
|Except for the pasqueflowers in the upper right hand corner, these were all on a well-traveled trail in south Boulder a couple of weeks ago. The pasqueflowers were near a RMNP trailhead.|
|Sugar bowls on Goshawk Ridge -- the only place I've seen these|
I was more enthralled than my friend. She saw them with interest the first and second time I pointed them out. After that, they were old hat.
I am reminded of how many times I think, "oh I've seen that before, done that" without recognizing that I am a different person today than I was when I saw, did whatever before. I can easily say that about seeing the sugar bowls last year when I went alone primarily to photograph the spring flowers on that trail--or the year before that when I took a friend who hadn't been on that trail to see the wildflowers. And the first time I went the year before that with the local Open Space Parks ranger who told us all about the area, just opened to hikers, and the flowers, rocks, trees, and mountains along the way
And yet--I am also the same in many ways. I still live in the small condo/apartment and have looked forward to the pool's opening. I enjoyed spending Sunday afternoon there reading with a little time in the water, greeting a few fellow pool sitters I hadn't seen since last year.
I've shed some volunteer tasks and taken on others. And my inner healing journey has deepened. (I'll say more about that in the next post.)
The flowers looked more beautiful--partly because of the long, late spring with snows and cold. The mountain vistas were clearer. The friends with whom I shared more dear, especially the one in whose back yard I stood to take many stitched together panorama photos of the mountains. Perhaps it is because I am older. Perhaps it is because I think of moving back to the Tennessee hills. Through whatever darkness--the clouds, my inner journey, the difficulties of family and friends--to enjoy the beauty with which I am surrounded.