I remember John Denver singing about a Rocky Mountain high, and never really thought much about it. Then I spent last week in the Rocky Mountains and boy do I get it.

I have come down from the mountains. The return started early yesterday around 7 a.m. Mountain Time. Ended about 10:30 p.m. Central. It was a drive of two parts. Pagosa Springs to Ozona in the company of a friend. Ozona to Johnson City in the company of myself.

Took a slow walk through time yesterday. Went back to the trail we hiked on Tuesday. This time, rather than turn left and hike along the Piedra River, we turned right and went up the mountain.

I stood on the Great Divide yesterday. One foot in the east, one foot in the west, straddling our big country. I was at Wolf Creek Pass, elevation 10,858.

Walked along the banks of a river yesterday, down into the canyon it’s been cutting for millions of years. The canyon was impressive.

Went to a multigenerational birthday party this past Saturday. I was a guest of the musician hired to sing songs to the patriarch. He was turning 90.

Lucky. I was late for an appointment yesterday morning in Fredericksburg. As I rushed down the road, several police cars passed me. I discovered why when I got to Hye. Big wreck.

Big day yesterday. We took out the trash. Literally. A lot of it. Bulky trash day, which meant all the stuff that had littered the yard and around the house and behind the workroom for about the last five years is now gone.

Went to see a show last night at the Paramount Theater in downtown Austin. We parked in the garage they use and went off to meet friends for dinner.

A while back, oh, let’s be honest, several years ago, my little push mower that I used on my Tiffway yard stopped working. Just wouldn’t roll. I poked at it for a while then just set it aside. Another thing in my life that didn’t work.

Durn. Summer’s back. Went outside this morning. It was hot. I hesitate to disparage summer. But enough is enough. This is late September. Shouldn’t summer be off somewhere else?

I was walking through the park next door on a quiet evening walk last week, and as I did one persimmon hit the ground and rolled out onto the trail right in front of me.

Three friends. More than fifty years together. Lots of laughs. Lots of parties. Lots of dancing. Lots of football. Yesterday we sat there together on our metal seats, backs against the concourse wall. Comfortable.

Football weekend. My longtime friend Tom and I made the trip into Houston yesterday. We’re ready to watch our Houston Cougars take on the Kansas Jayhawks.

Went for a drive in the hills south of town last night. A little bit of free floating anxiety had made its way into the house and settled on my shoulders. I needed to get out.

Played my retired guy card yesterday. I sat in my chair all morning and read a book. The mowing waited. It eventually got done…

Ah, these mornings. Cool with a hint of moisture. Green grass. Sweet days. There was rain around yesterday, but none fell on me. But that’s okay as long as it fell somewhere in the neighborhood.

Alleluia. The mulch is moved. The new bed is complete. Took long enough. Although, I really can’t remember when I started it. Back before last Christmas, I believe.

There’s a lovely chill in the air this morning. Feels like fall. It’s Monday. I had a good weekend. Music every day.

Made music last night. It was a spur of the moment thing. Last month my steel guitar playing son asked my bass playing daughter to sit in with him during a monthly music gathering a friend of his has started. This month they invited me.