LJ Idol Week 18 - Rocky Mountain High (Open Topic)
o/` "He climbed cathedral mountains, he saw silver clouds below,
saw everything as far as you can see.
And they say that he got crazy once and that he
tried to touch the sun,
and he lost a friend, but kept the memory.
Now he walks in quiet solitude, the forest and the stream,
seeking grace in every step he takes,
his sight is turned inside himself, to try and
understand, the serenity of a clear blue mountain lake." o/`
------ "Rocky Mountain High performed by John Denver
Back in November, my grandmother was hospitalized with an intestinal blockage that turned out to be the last stages of colon cancer. While we were still frantically trying to find a way out to Colorado as quickly as possible without going bankrupt, she passed away. Our journey back West to attend the funeral became a bittersweet rite of passage. I hadn't been ready to lose her yet but I would get the opportunity to show my beloved husband more of the homeland I so desperately missed. He had only seen the Rockies once through the veil of a blizzard and he had never seen any of the western slope or the southwest.
Stopping only to refuel the truck or take forty-five minute naps, we crossed two thirds of the United States in twenty-four hours. It was a relief to check into the Denver hotel where we stayed while waiting for the rest of the family to gather for that trip over the mountains to my grandmother's final resting place. The wait gave us time to explore the city.
My husband, a Florida native, had never seen the leaves turn color. I knew it was late in the year for any color to remain, but I still hoped for some. I wasn't disappointed. The aspens still held much of their golden color and some of the leaves hadn't even changed yet. We parked under one of the big old aspens planted next to a row of townhouses and I stared up into the bright autumn sky. I'm telling you, you'll never find a sky so blue anywhere else in the country nor leaves of such golden hue that they resemble a rain of Spanish doubloons.
A shy, childish smile spread across my husband's face and he kicked at the drifts of fallen leaves gathered at the base of the tree. I hadn't the heart to tell him that someone had probably painstakingly raked those into a pile and whoever it was would be heartily peeved to find the piles destroyed. The scent of wood smoke in the crisp, cold air spurred my enthusiasm. Laughing like fools, we chased each other up and down the street tossing handfuls of leaves at one another until, breathless, I had to stop and rest against the hood of the truck.
The following day saw us traveling along the spine of the Continental Divide as we headed toward my home town on the western slope. I've heard folk often lamenting the destruction of the old cattle trails but they're not really gone; they simply became the highways and roads which cut through the same rugged country today. We drove parallel to the old Colorado Trail, past the turn-offs to century old ranches and mining towns.
An amazing sunset colored the sky as we headed deeper into the mountains.
The next day, after the funeral, I showed my husband the ranch on which I'd spent most of my adult life. Where once there was a century old clapboard farm house surrounded by sixty-six acres of alfalfa fields there were now clusters of housing lots and even some paved roads. The remains of the old homestead could still be seen, though.
On the way home, my husband drove both the Riverside Slide and Red Mountan Pass. The first is a notorious slide area which probably killed more people than any other in the state until the snow shed was installed and it's still a dangerous place to be during a thaw. The second has almost as bad a reputation. Red Mountain is so notorious for slides and avalanches that it's closed most of the year. To drive either of these is to become a real driver in the state of Colorado. He did just fine.
This was an adventure of firsts for him. He'd never seen snow before....
Or running rushing streams....
Or Mesa Verde...
He's learning to love the land as I do and he wants to go back...soon.
This was written for therealljidol, a writing competition. If you liked the entry, please vote for me and my partner amenquohi whose entry is located HERE on Friday when voting opens and check out the other writers. At this stage of the game, they're all good and you'd be missing something if you didn't read them.
saw everything as far as you can see.
And they say that he got crazy once and that he
tried to touch the sun,
and he lost a friend, but kept the memory.
Now he walks in quiet solitude, the forest and the stream,
seeking grace in every step he takes,
his sight is turned inside himself, to try and
understand, the serenity of a clear blue mountain lake." o/`
------ "Rocky Mountain High performed by John Denver
Back in November, my grandmother was hospitalized with an intestinal blockage that turned out to be the last stages of colon cancer. While we were still frantically trying to find a way out to Colorado as quickly as possible without going bankrupt, she passed away. Our journey back West to attend the funeral became a bittersweet rite of passage. I hadn't been ready to lose her yet but I would get the opportunity to show my beloved husband more of the homeland I so desperately missed. He had only seen the Rockies once through the veil of a blizzard and he had never seen any of the western slope or the southwest.
Stopping only to refuel the truck or take forty-five minute naps, we crossed two thirds of the United States in twenty-four hours. It was a relief to check into the Denver hotel where we stayed while waiting for the rest of the family to gather for that trip over the mountains to my grandmother's final resting place. The wait gave us time to explore the city.
My husband, a Florida native, had never seen the leaves turn color. I knew it was late in the year for any color to remain, but I still hoped for some. I wasn't disappointed. The aspens still held much of their golden color and some of the leaves hadn't even changed yet. We parked under one of the big old aspens planted next to a row of townhouses and I stared up into the bright autumn sky. I'm telling you, you'll never find a sky so blue anywhere else in the country nor leaves of such golden hue that they resemble a rain of Spanish doubloons.
A shy, childish smile spread across my husband's face and he kicked at the drifts of fallen leaves gathered at the base of the tree. I hadn't the heart to tell him that someone had probably painstakingly raked those into a pile and whoever it was would be heartily peeved to find the piles destroyed. The scent of wood smoke in the crisp, cold air spurred my enthusiasm. Laughing like fools, we chased each other up and down the street tossing handfuls of leaves at one another until, breathless, I had to stop and rest against the hood of the truck.
The following day saw us traveling along the spine of the Continental Divide as we headed toward my home town on the western slope. I've heard folk often lamenting the destruction of the old cattle trails but they're not really gone; they simply became the highways and roads which cut through the same rugged country today. We drove parallel to the old Colorado Trail, past the turn-offs to century old ranches and mining towns.
An amazing sunset colored the sky as we headed deeper into the mountains.
The next day, after the funeral, I showed my husband the ranch on which I'd spent most of my adult life. Where once there was a century old clapboard farm house surrounded by sixty-six acres of alfalfa fields there were now clusters of housing lots and even some paved roads. The remains of the old homestead could still be seen, though.
On the way home, my husband drove both the Riverside Slide and Red Mountan Pass. The first is a notorious slide area which probably killed more people than any other in the state until the snow shed was installed and it's still a dangerous place to be during a thaw. The second has almost as bad a reputation. Red Mountain is so notorious for slides and avalanches that it's closed most of the year. To drive either of these is to become a real driver in the state of Colorado. He did just fine.
This was an adventure of firsts for him. He'd never seen snow before....
Or running rushing streams....
Or Mesa Verde...
He's learning to love the land as I do and he wants to go back...soon.
This was written for therealljidol, a writing competition. If you liked the entry, please vote for me and my partner amenquohi whose entry is located HERE on Friday when voting opens and check out the other writers. At this stage of the game, they're all good and you'd be missing something if you didn't read them.