A Colorado Chinook announced its arrival on an early November Wednesday, at the doors and windows, rattling over the roof, pounding the trees against the deck. My young collie ran upstairs barking at the commotion. In a few moments him and me and the other two were off into the dark, down the hill, to witness the event at the grove of big cottonwoods.
I hope the time never comes when I am too tired, too old, too busy or bored to miss seeing the stars in the dark of a winter morning, up beyond the wild swinging branches, to hear the whistling in the near yellow grass, to feel the magnificent power and the roar of nature's voice in those eleven trees.