I used to wake up to a view much like this everyday when I lived in Leadville Co. I can still remember getting out early in the morning on those crisp Fall days and feeling like the mountains were so close I could touch them and yet the vault of air was such that they seemed endlessly far away. There was always a momentarily feeling of disorientation over something that lovely. The mountains where I was always had a dusting of snow and so they were always a reminder of seasons coming and going and the rhythm of life.
My Grandfather was a child of the plains and he would come and visit on occasion but was never comfortable. The endless vistas of the prairies made him feel free and able to “see what was coming”. The mountains were beautiful to see but also a barrier to his vision and he didn’t like that.
The Bible is full of images of mountains and high places where one went to encounter God. Jesus often took the disciples up on a mountain. He also reminded them that there was work to do down on the plain as well.
My nephew took this picture and it is quite something. It should be in a magazine.
