All in one breath...
* Bruce Springsteen provided the perfect soundtrack for driving through the heartland of America: endless rolling hills dotted by groves of cottonwood trees, a single John Deere tractor kicking up clouds of dust leaving behind perfectly manicured wheat fields, and summer prairie grass as far as the eye can see bending in unison to the will of the wind.
* A jam packed week of vacation in Colorado switching between Boulder and Denver, a well deserved break after staying dormant through the Michigan winter: morning hikes up the flatirons for panoramic vistas, bike tours through gravel canyon trails and bustling city streets alike, seeing Bjork in concert high atop the Red Rocks Amphitheatre with a field of city lights sparkling in the distance, and plenty of navigating through downtown savoring the urban surroundings.
* I’m a naturalist! Putting on yet another hat for the books. What a strange feeling to be taking a guidebook along on hikes trying to identify the plethora of plants and wildlife, but how wonderful it is to be learning again.
* What an incredible high it is to have the Teton backdrop for all my activities! I raise my head and stare at these giants in disbelief almost on the daily, convinced that the sheer drama of the peaks is really a larger than life cardboard cutout.
* What I think is the true marker of enchantment to a place lies in the diversity of its landscapes. And the more I am acquainted with Jackson Hole, the more I am convinced that this valley is an entirely different world. I had to pull over on Antelope Flats Road the other night, and just breathe my surroundings all in. To my right, an early nineteenth century homestead stood humbly while the Tetons towered silently from behind, a testament of time and patience rising ever so dramatically above the sagebrush plains. Across the road, a herd of wild bison was silently grazing on scattered patches of grass while an early moon had already risen over the evening azure sky. I stood there in the middle of the impossibly flat valley, a tiny dot at the center of it all, overwhelmed and inspired.
* Driving home from Huckleberry Hot Springs, we felt like victors. With one bare foot on the gas petal, my tiny Corolla traversed the narrow winding pavement cutting through what seemed like an endless spell of lean, still conifers. Pulling over on a clearing along Jackson Lake, the three of us stood in front of this gray body of glacial water stretching right up to the snowy slopes of the Teton Range. The chilly wind blew through our hair, simultaneously creating wrinkles of waves here and there on the water. We looked at each other, and drank in this moment of flawless calm.
* Feeling completely relaxed at Shadow Mountain, Leslie’s cabin tucked away in the aspen foliage remains my place of refuge. A wood fire crackling in the fireplace on one side, I turn my gaze and am treated to a panoramic view of the sun setting behind that unmistakable profile of granite.
* Camping out atop of Shadow Mountain for Leslie’s last night in Teton country. The tent flap was wide open as I savored the texture of alpine grass on my bare feet. Warm breezes grazed the mountain top, blowing right through my mesh tent. I’m trying to finish the last few chapters of The Bell Jar while Leslie took a nap behind me. I look back and think, maybe under different circumstances, we could have worked out. I looked out into the valley at the mountains in front of me again, just as the late afternoon sun prepares itself for tonight’s descent. I smile and think to myself: This is it! This has got to be it! This really is as good as life gets!
* A jam packed week of vacation in Colorado switching between Boulder and Denver, a well deserved break after staying dormant through the Michigan winter: morning hikes up the flatirons for panoramic vistas, bike tours through gravel canyon trails and bustling city streets alike, seeing Bjork in concert high atop the Red Rocks Amphitheatre with a field of city lights sparkling in the distance, and plenty of navigating through downtown savoring the urban surroundings.
* I’m a naturalist! Putting on yet another hat for the books. What a strange feeling to be taking a guidebook along on hikes trying to identify the plethora of plants and wildlife, but how wonderful it is to be learning again.
* What an incredible high it is to have the Teton backdrop for all my activities! I raise my head and stare at these giants in disbelief almost on the daily, convinced that the sheer drama of the peaks is really a larger than life cardboard cutout.
* What I think is the true marker of enchantment to a place lies in the diversity of its landscapes. And the more I am acquainted with Jackson Hole, the more I am convinced that this valley is an entirely different world. I had to pull over on Antelope Flats Road the other night, and just breathe my surroundings all in. To my right, an early nineteenth century homestead stood humbly while the Tetons towered silently from behind, a testament of time and patience rising ever so dramatically above the sagebrush plains. Across the road, a herd of wild bison was silently grazing on scattered patches of grass while an early moon had already risen over the evening azure sky. I stood there in the middle of the impossibly flat valley, a tiny dot at the center of it all, overwhelmed and inspired.
* Driving home from Huckleberry Hot Springs, we felt like victors. With one bare foot on the gas petal, my tiny Corolla traversed the narrow winding pavement cutting through what seemed like an endless spell of lean, still conifers. Pulling over on a clearing along Jackson Lake, the three of us stood in front of this gray body of glacial water stretching right up to the snowy slopes of the Teton Range. The chilly wind blew through our hair, simultaneously creating wrinkles of waves here and there on the water. We looked at each other, and drank in this moment of flawless calm.
* Feeling completely relaxed at Shadow Mountain, Leslie’s cabin tucked away in the aspen foliage remains my place of refuge. A wood fire crackling in the fireplace on one side, I turn my gaze and am treated to a panoramic view of the sun setting behind that unmistakable profile of granite.
* Camping out atop of Shadow Mountain for Leslie’s last night in Teton country. The tent flap was wide open as I savored the texture of alpine grass on my bare feet. Warm breezes grazed the mountain top, blowing right through my mesh tent. I’m trying to finish the last few chapters of The Bell Jar while Leslie took a nap behind me. I look back and think, maybe under different circumstances, we could have worked out. I looked out into the valley at the mountains in front of me again, just as the late afternoon sun prepares itself for tonight’s descent. I smile and think to myself: This is it! This has got to be it! This really is as good as life gets!