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We hike a lot across the Colorado Front Range as it is something almost every one is compelled to do here; the chance to be so completely surrounded by a magnificent landscape that invites one to enter into its beauty. It doesn't really matter what season it is, we always find a trail and head for it. I have hiked in thigh deep snow in winter and dry, blue skies in the summer, where the summer flowers bloom in brilliant colors even as the grass fades beneath the sun. Higher up, the red tails drift on the winds, magpies, redwings, swallows, blue jays, and crows gather nosily in the trees. I love all of it. 

But this year I become enamored of the random cairns that appear in the fields and mountains -- some the product of nature, stones tumbled together from rain and erosion. Others, created by hand, an impulse when called by a certain stone to bend down and spontaneously make a tower of stones -- multicolored, reds and grays, glittering with mica, marbled with blue veins, and covered in lichens. I have been taking so many pictures of them lately, and when I can, adding a stone here and there. It is a communal offering, a delicate way of saying, I passed this way, I greet you. I never seem to hunt for a stone, one always seems to magically appear beneath my feet, calling to my hand. I receive it and then gift it. 

For more on my family and our life on the Front Range, visit here. The Nature of Family