More Things to Love About Where We Live

My mile walk down the road this morning was unusually delightful. The sky was full of  towering, white puffy clouds on a backdrop of deep blue sky. The scattered clouds lit the valley and surrounding ridges with patches of sunlight, slowly highlighting everything in their path. I was so enthralled with this Rocky Mountain light show that it took a while for me to also appreciate the silence… the only sound was my boots against the gravel road.

On our flight back from a much needed vacation in Myrtle Beach, Holly and I came to the same realization somewhere over Kansas. One of the things we dearly love about where we live is the quiet. Don’t get me wrong—we really enjoyed our strolls along the beach and our time alone. But, a condo on Myrtle Beach is not the quietest place in the world. There is the maintenance guy with the leaf blower at nine in the morning, the souped-up hot rods trolling for girls on Shore Drive, the boom box golf cart dudes also trolling for girls, the nightly fireworks, and the kids playing hop scotch in the unit above. At first, we accept the cacophony as just part of the experience. Ultimately, it becomes a reminder of one of the many things to love about where we live.

Another thing to love about where we live is that we are allowed to share our mountain home with an amazing array of wildlife. Or, more accurately, we are blessed that the wildlife deign to share their living space with us. After all, they were here first. In addition to the wandering herds of elk and deer that expect us to stop and let them cross the road, we all have stories of fascinating encounters with our wild critters. Only a week ago, I had to stop to let the tiniest spotted fawn and her mother cross Witter Gulch. I swear that fawn was no bigger than Pippi, our dearly departed Mini Dachshund. He/she must have been born that very morning. After 40 years, it is hard to pick a favorite wildlife moment. But, here goes! In March of 2018, I was privileged to watch a mother bear and her two cubs emerge from their winter sleep not more than 20 feet from my home office window. All three wobbled around for a bit before they got their legs back. Mom spent about a week training the cubs to climb trees before they all took off.