Midsummer has hit this higher altitude, and it's been a long time since I got to watch the high desert bloom. This isn't the intense lushness of our Indiana town, and it's not the landscape extravaganza of much of the west. We don't live in Vail or Aspen, and we haven't spent much time in the swanky southern redrock regions. No, we live in working man's Colorado, where the foothills and paths and scrub brush and cactus all kind of seep into your bones rather than knocking you down flat. Subtlety instead of spectacle; clear hues and a thousand shades of brown. In some respects the effect is even more intense, like a good long marriage or a pair of worn jeans. Every day I fall deeper in love.
One of these days I've got to pick up a guide to Colorado wildflowers. And my paints and a brush. It's time we got to know one another a little better.
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