Like many others, I work most of my days in a building made mostly of concrete, drywall, linoleum, wood, plastic, and steel. I am fortunate to work in a sheltered environment. It protects me from the chill and cold. I am also shielded from the sweltering heat of the summer sun. My clothes and shoes stay dry when it rains, sleets, or snows. Every tool I need to perform the expected duties of my job is readily available. I feel blessed to have an indoor job.  Yet, with all these amenities, my mind wanders.


I long for more time spent in the mountains. They are my sanctuary. Nowhere else do I feel more safe, free, and alive. All senses (sight, smell, sound, taste, and feel) are exponentially compounded. The limitations to wander and explore are boundless. The trees  are my walls. The sky is my ceiling. The forest on which I stand is my floor. The sun is my light. The wind stirs everything in motion.


I am very lucky my father taught me to be a mountain man. He took me to the mountains starting when I was very young. We saw and did things no one else could ever imagine. My father gave me the gift of experiencing what it was like to feel totally alive. The only way I could ever reciprocate his gift is by passing it on to my own children.


Nothing is more beautiful than watching the sun rise and fall over the mountain tops. One feels lost in time-mesmerized. A multitude of things can be going on in life, yet, taking a few minutes to stop and watch the light spread over the trees like a cool winter’s blanket will change it forever.


Mountains fill my dreams. I am consumed by their beauty. They will forever draw me near. They will tease me from a distance. Their calling to me is endless. I must go. Feeling free and boundless while I am there; it is love.


One thought on “MOUNTAINS

  1. Born in shadow of Long’s Peak. … Now I live in “Muddy Bottoms” near the Mississippi River, because I married a woman from here. These “flatlanders” have not seen the majesty of the great Rocky Mountains, and proclaim the Smokies and Appalachians to be equal. They are not. At best, comparable to your foothills, before actually getting into REAL mountains. … And “the great Muddy River” cannot compare to the beauty of any of the crystal clear, ice cold mountain rivers in the Rockies! — Homesick for “God’s Country”!


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