Rocky Mountain National Park

 Penny had been here as a dour teen.  One of the things she remembered was that every time they crossed the Continental Divide, and they crossed it several times, her mother made a big deal out of it.  She silently groaned every time.  

 We were, of course, a little ahead of tourist season.  That had its advantages in that there was little traffic on the roads.  Note the height of the snow poles through this rock cut.

 There were, however, disadvantages.  This sign, at one of the visitors' centers, indicates that the flush toilets here did not work because the pipes were still frozen.  It's worth noting that the elevation of this center was 11,796 feet, 547 feet higher than the tip of Mt. Hood.

 We live in a very scenic place, but this area has its own, very different brand of beauty.  This pretty little lake was in a small draw at an elevation of over 10,000 feet.

 The geology was equally spectacular and interesting.  Look at the multiple lava flow layers on this dome.

 Glaciers, snow caps, and high alpine meadows abounded. 

 These lava cliffs are home to the highest known nesting pair of prairie falcons.

 One of them emerged and swooped over us as we stood there taking in the scenery.

 If the scenery and geology weren't enough, the place abounded with wildlife.  This Clark's nutcracker posed for us at one of the pullouts.

 As did this mountain bluebird.

 Elk grazed in the alpine meadows.  These elk aren't as burly and well fed looking as those we usually see in the Pacific Northwest, but the conditions they have to endure during the winter are far more harsh.  In this area, snow pack can easily exceed thirty feet, and winter winds routinely top one hundred miles per hour.

 This marmot posed for us at another pullout.

 Lovely flowers, like this snow gentian, abounded in alpine meadows.  Because of the harsh climate and short growing season here, plants may require several years of growth before they can gather enough energy to flower.  One of the rangers at a visitor center told us of one in particular that had been watched for twenty five years before its first, and last, bloom.  She was horrified every time she saw a tourist bring in a flower that they had picked.

 The yellow of this alpine buttercup provides a pretty counterpoint to the neighboring stonecrop as they compete for the attention of the pollinators that are scarce at this altitude.

The size of these delicate little forget-me-nots belies the intensity of their fragrance. 

George Carlin once said, "Life is not measured by the number of breaths you take, but by the number of moments that take your breath away."

This is one of those places that has enhanced the measure of our lives.