shades of night.

7 Jan

I walked outside after work this evening thinking Abbs and I could take a stroll.

It had been a beautiful day. One of those winter days where bright blue skies, still air and hot sun almost trick you into believing that March had arrived two months early. That Winter had already delivered his worst; already covered the fir trees and rivers in a sheath of snow and ice and that March had arrived, like a knight in shining armor, to melt away the chill that had taken up residence in the inhabitants of this rough and tumble mountain community.

Abbey and I wandered down to the river, moseying and picking our way carefully through the crusty, knee-deep snow. I reached the bank and stopped for a moment, letting the sound of the rushing water envelope my senses and when I lifted my eyes, I was greeted by the very beginning of what would end up as a spectacular Rocky Mountain sunset.

I unzipped my jacket pocket in search of my phone so I could capture the orange clouds as they streaked across the still blue sky, when I realized that I had left my phone on the kitchen counter.

The slightest of waves of disappointment washed over me when I realized that my bragging rights had taken a dig, but the sky held me captive and I knew if I turned away to get my phone, the moment would be over and my opportunity to reawaken my senses would disappear in a flash.

So I stood there, with Abbey beside me, and watched in silence as the sky moved from orange to peach to magenta to violet, reaching a crescendo as the snow-capped peaks were painted in a rosy glow of pinks and purples. Ice lining the river’s edge, framing the river rocks in a halo of what could easily have been lace, cradled a reflection so clear that it was as if Mother Nature were modeling her prom dress in a mirror.

As the sun sank lower below the Continental Divide and the sky grew darker, the oranges and the pinks and the violets took on an ashy hue, announcing the arrival of Night and the promise of yet another beautiful day in the Rockies; another day whose beauty could inspire even the most cynical of shredders.

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