Inter-states feel like large cities to me. Too crowded, too much traffic, too many people rushing to their destination, quickly taking care of business, then rushing off again.
When I am traveling on back roads the horizon is always at eye level. I can see clouds without having to crane my neck skyward. There are no houses or traffic to block my view of fields dotted with wild game and cacti. I can enjoy the scenery rolling by, and not have to keep my eye on the traffic every nano second.
It is true, beauty is in the eye of the beholder. On a warm winter day while traveling from Pueblo to Trinidad, I was enjoying the array of colors in the fields. In amazement I noted the many delicate shades of yellows, tans, and browns with tinges of bright red. My friend listened politely to my glowing remarks on the beauty of wild grasses. He looked upon the dry, open fields, and declared with disdain, and a hint of irritation, that the fields and mountains could only be beautiful when they were green. Was he just in a bad mood I wondered?
It is mid winter and the once green fields of spring have faded to hues of tans, yellows and dashes of red. The gravel crunches loudly beneath the tires as I slowly make my way down a gravel road where I am not sure ,,,,,,,,,,aahh, I notice dark clouds rapidly turning the pale blue sky into deep tones of periwinkle and dark blues. I was admiring how incredibly fast mother nature was changing her course when,
out of no where, a herd of antelope raced past and suddenly stopped in their tracks to watch me watching them. A few posed for me as I drew out my camera.
The open range is dry from lack of snow, and the cacti look the worse for wear. However, if you pause and really look at all that nature reveals in any given space, there is so much beauty. The rustling, dry grass shimmers with golden hues against the foreboding dark clouds creating a fleeting wonder of nature.