What good is it, living in Colorado, if you don't occasionally get out to the mountains, away from the noise and odor of the traffic, to a place that smells of winter grass, where you walk on trails of finely crushed red stone and the air is sweet and cold? I took Duncan up Ken Caryl Canyon this afternoon where he could get his feet wet and dirty on something other than goose droppings and yellowing park grass and where I could marvel at the rocks, hills and valleys around us, the quiet of the afternoon, the cloudless white of the sky. Duncan is a natural outdoor dog and I could feel his heart warm in the clean air as we walked the trails through the rock formations. He's beautiful, but outside, under a mountain sky, his beauty grows and I love him all the more.
Sunday, February 3, 2008
Ken Caryl
What good is it, living in Colorado, if you don't occasionally get out to the mountains, away from the noise and odor of the traffic, to a place that smells of winter grass, where you walk on trails of finely crushed red stone and the air is sweet and cold? I took Duncan up Ken Caryl Canyon this afternoon where he could get his feet wet and dirty on something other than goose droppings and yellowing park grass and where I could marvel at the rocks, hills and valleys around us, the quiet of the afternoon, the cloudless white of the sky. Duncan is a natural outdoor dog and I could feel his heart warm in the clean air as we walked the trails through the rock formations. He's beautiful, but outside, under a mountain sky, his beauty grows and I love him all the more.
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