A Love Story
Here in Longmont, Colorado, we are in the hottest part of our summer. Long, hot, dusty days string out in front of us, with the occasional high-based thunderstorm that brings us a lot of wind and lightning, but only a few raindrops. 100 degree days give way to 55 degree nights, as the air is so dry it can’t sustain heat when the sun goes down. If you’re outside, you’re looking for shade. If you’re inside, you’re still wishing you were outside.
That is Colorado.
We are a land of cowboys and farm boys, their big straw hats shading their weathered faces from the sun. They come to town to wash their pickup trucks at the local do-it-yourself car wash, then spend money at Monarch’s buying supplies or a new pair of boots. It is not unusual to see one in Target, a red basket in their hand, their button-down shirts pressed and clean, but their boots caked with mud.
We are a land of cyclists, muscling their way up and down canyons, their bodies tall and thin, their calf muscles looking like iron cables beneath their skin. They hide their eyes between bug-like sunglasses and hug the shoulders of the road like race car drivers.
We are a land of old Hispanic men, dressed sharply in pressed shirts, black jeans over shiny silver-tipped boots, bolo ties at their throats, and immaculate straw hats on their heads. They look at you with sharp, shiny black eyes and smile a toothy grin, and open doors for you with a “Buenos Dias.”
We are a land of community gardens, thrift stores, veterinary offices, roadside farm stands, hand-made textiles, alpacas, sheep, enormous hawks, moms with babies in slings on their bellies, Subarus, Tacoma pickups, and months that can bring both snow and warm temperatures. We are a land of art, nature, and an appreciation of simplicity. We are a land of independence and self-sufficiency and survival.
We live in a place where on daily basis you can hear “it’s the Colorado way.”
I love this place. I love the cowboys and the cyclists and the polite old Hispanic men, and the thrift stores and the community gardens and the cool nights and the warm days. The sun is brighter here. The air is clearer here. The mountains are high, the valleys cool and filled with streams. We live through extremes every day here, and we are a tough people. I tell my girls all the time, “Buck up, you’re a Colorado girl now.”
I am blessed to live here. I am blessed to have all of Colorado out my front door. I live a good life, full of possibilities and blessings. I am thankful.
