so, i’ve just returned to colorado after a week in the pacific northwest and this has become a sort of catchall, rambling piece.  a bit of reflection and miscellany.

lets, for example, take the estes park middle school field trip to CUBoulder.  it’s springtime a couple years back and the students are sprawled on this patch of university lawn.  as the tour guide touts the benefits of a higher education, all the kids can think about is that grass.  some are sitting upright with fingers sunk deep into the manicured green, others are face down kind of wallowing in it.  either way, given the grass, the relevance of a future in library science or industrial psychology falls on deaf ears.

stumbling towards a metaphor here, i am dreaming of colorado sky.  back east, i find myself drifting from the subway or the on-ramp to telluride, wild basin, penintente, lyons.  aside from several formative years in my youth, there is no place i’ve lived so long as estes park.  and, given my somewhat vague definition of permanence, going back feels the closest thing to going home.

truth or merely perspective?  why is it so goshdarn challenging to keep on the sunny side if i’m up to my eyebrows in new england?  why keep getting caught up east of the mississippi if it sets me so goshdarn surly?  what is the trick to keeping that wide-eyed, open-road perspective, even when you’re stayput for a few?  and if here seems so proper, why keep searching for something else?


anyhow, woes of the eastern seaboard aside, and these days are all about gratitude.  open v. otherwise for the welterweight title.  waking up each day, smitten with sunshine and heartswell, thankful for the wanderlust and the opportunity to indulge.


just days ‘till new years (love it) and back on the road asap.  thanks for reading and hope you’ve enjoyed.  all my warmest.