66×24″ triptych on gallery wrapped canvas.
For twenty years our life has had a pattern. Every other summer was a long road trip across the country to Ft. Collins, Colorado. I’ve only been there in the summer, but I’ve said many times I’d love to live there. It’s about an hour north of Denver. The town is big enough to have many chain stores I regularly visit, yet feels more like a small town. It has a charming old part of town, that I’ve heard was the inspiration behind Disneyworld’s Main Street. There are also awesome parks and miles of bike trails. It is a town on the edge. Helping to orient the directionally challenged the foothills of the rocky sit just to the west. (This seems just about perfect to me, mountains minutes away but living on fairly flat ground.) One of the places you can go hiking is around the area of Horsetooth rock. It’s a distinctive formation that looks like a horses tooth that can be seen clearly from town.
It was about four years ago when we thought our kids were old enough to handle the hike up to Horsetooth Rock. It was hot. I wasn’t adjusted to climbing or the altitude, the hike challenged us. We were so close, at the base of the rocky outcropping when I decided to stop and rest in the shade while my husband and kids went further on.
My husband took this wonderful picture just before the reached the top. My kids were so proud of themselves for making it all the way. I love the green rolling foothills, how you can just glimpse the curvy roads that people take to their homes. (I naturally make lists and plans, and knowing what’s ahead makes it easier, so I love when you can catch a glimpse of what all is ahead.) Here your work is rewarded with such a wonderful viewpoint.
This summer the pattern is disrupted. My husband will still go to Ft. Collins for a work conference, but my kids and I won’t be joining him. I won’t miss the long car trip. But I will miss being out west.
I’m climbing a different mountain right now. Being a professional artist, trying to build that into a profitable business. Every so often I’ll turn a corner and see a wonderful vista. But more often than not it’s one foot in front of the other, sometimes backtracking to find the path. At times I feel so deep in the ravine I can’t view anything but the path. It’s an unfamiliar path and I have no idea how long it might take to get to the summit. So I’m trying to enjoy the journey. Celebrate the beauty found along the way. Remembering the pictures I saw that made me decide to start the journey.