in the high country

For a time today, I thought to myself, “you can’t go home again”. Driving out of the Denver airport, then across Denver east to west, then up through the foothills was generally unpleasant. And unattractive. Just a slog.

Lots of weighed-down trucks crawling along the high altitude byways, substantial real estate development in place of wide open spaces, and no real stunning sights to be seen along the way.

It’s true I thought, you cannot go home again.

Then we turned onto Colorado State Highway 91.

Little traffic.

Stunning views.

Wide open spaces.

I’m in the High Rockies.

It’s true, home is much more than a vista. Yet for me that is where the tug on my heart begins. This place I am in this day reminds me of the places of my growing up years where I found contentment and safe-keeping. Places so vast all that was in me could escape.

My family was always “going to the mountains”. My sister and brother and I were free to roam in the early mornings during these trips. We explored and adventured endlessly.

Upon arriving at our cabins last night, it was time to explore once again. The cabin could wait. We were off to the ponds, to the river, to the soft light of dusk.

Then cabin settling in for the night.

Early morning rise for a walk around, espresso in town, and vistas that settle my soul

As Sara Groves sings, “It is well with my soul, it is well, it is well with my soul.”

And so this day, it is well with my soul.

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