Somedays are made and meant to share. Yesterday was one of them. Known in many parts of the United States as Columbus Day to honor the man credited with discovering America, and in other parts of the U.S. as Indigenous People’s Day— it was Re-Discovery Day for me, a non-native of Colorado.
Re-discovering what a clear, true-Colorado-blue sky looks like. A sky scrubbed clean of haze and smoke by 50-60 mph wind gusts. 
High-end gusts that even gave trees whiplash IMG_0916 Gentler gusts causing the same trees to wave friendly hello’s. 
Causing varieties of every age to stand out.
A picture-perfect day. 
A day to give all the glory to the Great Artist who used an autumn palette to create a day to be remembered.
A day to re-discover the joys of family and friends. I’d passed an empty, double-decker stroller 
before I saw a slightly-balding dad pointing out creek-side treasures to his helmeted, erstwhile passengers. As I walked the trail behind the small family, the little boy turned and announced to me, “I’m four and a third.” When I didn’t immediately respond (I was swallowing a chuckle at his pride and ardor), he repeated. “I’m four and a third.” I know a cue when I hear one. “Wow!” I said, and he nodded. His little sister then looked up expectantly at me. “How old are you?” I asked. “She’s two,” said Big Brother, authoritatively. She continued looking at me. I bent a little lower, closer to her eye level, though still securely socially distant, and asked again, clearly this time to her. The answer came back in a soft, sweet-timbred tone, “Two.” Wow, I said again. The dad turned to me and smiled. Family Dynamic acknowledged.
Walking a little farther up the trail, 
I spotted a treasure straight out of a classic adventure book. Almost thicket-hidden. (Look closely at the back of the trail.) A “Huck Finn” and friend, balancing on a log as they made their way across the creek waters, while their faithful dog watched.
On ahead, it was possible for the first time in many a day 
to see the mountains. A view that had been too-long hazed. Now visible, snow-etched trails from mountain tops portending a new season while those below keep on doing what is possible today.
©️ Patricia Schudy 2020.
Great pix. Thanks for sharing. Stay on the trail!
This blog gives the reader a wealth of visual colorful images, soaring one merrily along like the swaying trees it describes.
you took me away to a simpler time, and led me to a park where I sat and looked at the beautiful trees which are all turning hews of red and burnt orange and shades of amber and you took me to the years when my children were little and I would rake the leaves in our yard and they would jump from the lower branches of the tree into the piles and I can hear them screech even now, the glee in their voices, reminding me that even though they are grown ups now, they are still my laughing children deep inside. I think I am going to go outside and rake up some leaves and relive some more of those marvelous memories that you brought out with your wonderful story. Thank you so much Pat for the trip down memory lane.
“I can see clearly now….”