A Foothills Life

After living among the wondrous architectural diversity of Ixelles, it's been incredibly depressing to return to endless suburbs of identical homes and ubiquitous strip malls.

Fortunately for my sanity, the absence of man-made beauty is offset by natural beauty that is ridiculously easy to come by. The Denver metro area is blessed with miles of interconnecting trails through its urban neighborhoods and suburbs; the trails are bordered by green space, some of it substantial. We're two blocks from the Ralston Creek Trail. In our neighborhood, the creek opens into a small pond that attracts the usual mallards and Canadian geese, as well as more exotic passersby. A lone female bufflehead recently spent a few days there, looking like a stuffed toy among the bigger mallards. At dusk last night, a huge northern goshawk made us jump when it landed in a tree right in front of us as we were walking Hana. (We told her that the hawk had targeted her for dinner.)

For serious hiking, we can be in the Flatirons in less than half an hour. We haven't managed to spot a whole lot of wildlife there yet, although the Black Angus babies tottering around the nearby grazing fields on their spindly legs are way too adorable to end up as hamburger. At least the wildflowers are beginning to show themselves in the Flatirons, like this early--and, as of Sunday, only--bloomer in a huge field of wild iris, plants that are perfect miniatures of the iris in my Northville garden.