Omayra Acevedo, Peak to Peak. At first, I couldn’t decide what I wanted to write about this week. So, I did what I always do when I am faced with a challenge. I turned to nature. I went for a walk, but I promised myself that I wouldn’t fret over my writer’s block, the challenges I was facing and I would certainly not expend any energy contemplating the ways of the world. There was no point in asking questions about things I could not change. My only task was to focus on all of my senses and breathing. Easier said than done sometimes.

I put my shoes on, locked my front door, took a very slow inhale; as I began to exhale, I placed my right foot on the dirt road and waited a moment to feel the earth pressing gently on the ball of my foot. Shortly after taking my first few strides, I stopped to relish in the solitude the view offered. There’s something magical about taking a moment to observe what’s right in front you, from a distance. The shape of the forests, the colors, the sky and if you’re lucky enough, the wild things that call Colorado home, all take on a different light when watched from afar. 

I encountered crows, hummingbirds, a buck, chipmunks, squirrels, butterflies and some of the most beautiful wildflowers I had ever set my sights on. Colorado tends to share a lot of it’s stunning beauty with us year-round, but during this time of year it’s simply different. On this day, something was also making the colors livelier. Perhaps, it was the sunshine or my concentrated efforts to be at peace and see the best in everything. Either way, time felt perfect. 

According to research, there are over 800 unique wildflowers in our colorful state. I’m sure I saw about 100 of them. Columbines, Indian Paintbrushes, Bluebells, Mariposa Lilies and tons of weeds all bloomed from the side of the road, tree stumps and rocks. Unlike a lot of people, weeds don’t bother me. I think they’re as beautiful as any flower. The Musk Thistle displays the most stunning array of purples, in so many layers. Besides the Columbine, Bellflowers are one of my favorites. They remind me of all the faery stories I make up in my mind. 

I sure hope you’re able to go for walks or at least stare outside a window to enjoy some of the blossoms. It took some practice, but I made it 45 minutes without too many distractions. I kept reminding myself that the only thing that truly mattered was whatever present moment I was living. An obstacle helped me decide to do something nice for myself. Not only did I find inspiration, I saw sights of hope everywhere I looked. 

(Originally published in the July 9, 2020, print edition of The Mountain-Ear.)