Having chosen many years ago to live in the foothills of Colorado, and to have the opportunity to protect some unspoiled property, Thanksgiving time is always a reminder of the unique blessings of nature. Elk and deer, red, grey, and black foxes, coyotes, an occasional rare bobcat, and the silent and mysterious visit of the magnificent lion of the mountains, all in the context of the silence of the evergreen trees, steep rocky hillsides, and bristlecone shrubs, represent a blessing almost beyond all others.
Take away dwellings here and it could be the land before the pioneers. The stream that has been flowing 'from the basement of time' (Norman Maclean). The mountain flowers that sleep in the winter and set the meadow alive in the spring. The brilliantly colored summer birds and intrepid winter ones.
For those who require the excitement of Hollywood, the power-struggles of Washington, or the money-manipulation of New York, this is not the place.
But for me, I'm deeply grateful to Nature and Nature's God for the privilege of living here. And for my thanks, I continue to pledge faithful effort to hand it on in its intended state.
-- Gary Hart, outside Kittredge, Colorado