It’s finally spring, and Northern Colorado is climbing out of dormancy and exploding with pent-up energy. I moved into Estes Park (within city limits) last summer. We lived on a mountain about 10 miles east of Estes, but moved “To town” for business reasons. I know for sure that if I had the kind of job that only required internet access I’d still be living on the mountain.
During my time there, some city folks from other states told me that all the peace and quiet made them very nervous. I remember how the solitude came in on me at first, and it took several months to feel unintimidated by the silence. Looking back on the experience, I now value it highly, and the blending of my pace of life with the pace of life I found up there constitute the bulk of my cherished memories.
Estes Park, although “city” by comparison, is very different from St. Louis and Kansas City, where I spent most of my life, and I revel in the differences. You might know that in the spring, the elk and deer practically swarm through Estes Park, and I see them nearly every day as they drift through my property. My dog, Max, likes to look at them too, and it’s common for me to roll his window down as we drive, so he can have his version of a close encounter. Thankfully, Max isn't a barker as much as a silent observer, and he shows no interest in chasing the elk.
Last week I took Max for his daily walk in the little park across from the Stanley Hotel. Clustered at the top of the park area was a small herd of cow elk. Max was off-leash, but we easily walked around the herd and back to the car. The elk were more curious about Max than he was of them. I suppose elk find it hard to discriminate between coyotes and golden retrievers.
Having said all this, I sometimes wonder what my life would have been like had I remained in Kansas City. The suburb I lived in boasted a daytime population of almost 500,000 people, and it was just one suburb of many! I did see some deer there, but they were already dead by the side of the road. And I guess this is tornado season for the Midwestern states. I vividly remember the tornado sirens and the waiting in the basement for the danger in the middle of the night to pass. Overall, I remember the unbelievable humidity and traffic at all hours of the day and night – and the fact that neither one could be avoided.
So now I compare my springtime memories with the ones I left behind, and I’m so very grateful I lived long enough to know the difference. I guess in 1840 I would have been a pioneer. I know that in 2004 it took fewer guts for me to drive into the sunset than it did to remain trapped where I was. And I suppose that many folks would disagree, and that’s OK – this is an opinion piece, after all. I probably wouldn’t love Colorado if Kansas were empty of people, and everybody has to be someplace, but for me, it’s here, with the elk floating through my yard and trimming the lawn. Do you realize that I can count on one hand the times I’ve heard a lawn mower engine since I moved here? Now that redefines Saturday mornings!
I do not have a crystal ball, and I won’t waste your time by predicting what I think the economy is going to do – besides, all sales people are optimistic no matter what the facts. But I will say it will either get better, or worse. Four years in college and a degree in economics and that’s the best I can do! And I make no apologies for that opinion – better than the one-sided stuff the media shoves down our throats!
All storms pass, and the sun really always shines on one side of the clouds. I’m not a very special person, just average perhaps, but when the sun comes out I intend to be looking at Northern Colorado. If that’s been a reoccurring dream for you, like it was for me for over 50 years, think about this – you’re going to be living somewhere, and with the interest rates that are available now, why not here?
Bring your digital camera and leave your lawn mower behind. And if Estes isn’t quiet enough for you, let me show you around the mountain!