Summers in Colorado

My brother Rex holding my son Ty, while Cannelle, our French Bassett Hound tracks a wild beast.

 

 

In the summertime living is easy, especially if you are lucky enough to live in Colorado, where humidity doesn't exist and the mountains are a short car ride away. Rob and I took advantage of our location in northern Colorado.  This picture was taken on one of our excursions. Since our family included our three young kids, Canelle the French Bassett Hound ( her previous owners were French and I swear she only responded to commands given with the proper French accent) and my brother Rex, we made a rag-tag motley crew wherever we went.

We drove up the canyon to Estes Park, Colorado (about an hour away from home) so often, one time our children refused to go. "Nooooooooooooooo! Not the mountains! Not the mountains!" 7 year-old Jennifer begged. Elise and Ty joined her, all three of them weeping and wailing about the torture of spending time in God's country.

 

 I guess that is how you know you might be overdoing the fresh air and outdoor adventure part of life, if your kids are begging to stay in the hot, crowded suburbs rather than be subjected to another hike in the horrors of  http://www.visitestespark.com/rocky-mountain-national-park.

 

It wasn't until the first Christmas after we moved to the flat land of the mid-west, that our children  appreciated what we left behind in Colorado. That year we bought a fake Christmas tree rather than going up into the mountains and cutting our own. Ty was traumatized, not knowing that Christmas was even possible with a fake tree. He demanded we get in the car and drive to the mountains and get our Christmas tree the way Santa required. We tried to explain that it wasn't possible, we no longer lived near any mountains at all. His 6-year old mind could not comprehend that reality.

"No mountains? What about camping and hiking and all the fun stuff we do on the weekends?" he asked.

"All gone," we sadly said.

It was a rough Christmas that year. Luckily, the children made friends with kids in the neighborhood and life resorted itself into a new normal.

 

But this time of year when summer is in its full-blown glory, I feel a pang of sadness, missing the wonderful things that only exist where mountains live, and my brother who rests eternally in the ground of Cheyenne, WY. He was the best hiker of all of us.