Burnout

Re-reading some of my latest posts I realize I have it. As I am watering my really awesome back yard garden and I have to pause and un-kink the hose, I do so with a sigh and note the irritation I am feeling. How silly. I move on into the house and raise the shades and see the indoor plants could use water too, but little things keep getting put off for later. I'm not up to par.

In twelve days I will be heading for home. I will be surrounded by my favorite sister and brother and his family, in the high country. I will be camping in a national forest, the Uncompaghre. Supposedly, that means "water that turns the rocks red". Truly beautiful are these particular mountains, Cathedral, red rock against an azure sky and the smell of pine, patches of aspens quivering all around. They imported moose to the forest in 2005, I know its stupid but I hope to see one.

The drive up from Denver winds through some of the most beautiful mountains. Last time I was there, I drove up through New Mexico to my brother's place not far from the city, still exhilarated from the day before over my black bear encounter. Most of the ground was still smoldering in black ash from the fire that had been raging. Barren and black. Not a tree. Not a speck of green. It was awful. I cried most of the way there. It was like a nuclear bomb had gone off.

Five years later, it will be renewed and I will spend four days completely out in the open air, clean and crisp, listening to some of the best live music around and sipping mead. This place holds the perfect moment 2002 in its grasp. There aren't many of those.

This festival, being held this far up leaves behind the chic, city drop-ins that show up at the festivals later in the summer that are closer to Denver. The crowd here is in for the duration, they are serious about this place and this event being the most fun they can make it be. And they are green minded, good people, all gathered in one place.

I can hang on.