They shimmered in the sun, whirring and spinning non-stop while we waited in line for our turn.

Up, up, up.  At the top was a breathtaking view.  Ladybugs – four, five, half a dozen or more – alighted upon us, staying for a moment or hitching a ride until we gently brushed them off.  We found folding chairs to rest in, ice cream treats to nibble, and wildflowers and butterflies splashed across the edges of dusty trails.

Across the expansion of green meadows, oh how I never knew the many colors that singular green could be, and blankets of seemingly Lego sized trees, she rested heavy and substantial.  Shrouded in white, old and wise to the ways of the world, she demanded a silent respect.  And she got what she demanded.

And then it was time to go.  And so we went, back down to the bustle and busy of life in the foothills, life in the shadow of such magnificence.

It was a good reminder of the vastness of nature and the oldness of time – this on the last weekend before the start of a new school year.