Bright blue sky. Dryness in mid-winter. Yesterday morning's high mountain peaks were smoothly white. After the warm day, this morning they are well-streaked with bare grey rock. Colorado so far fighting a losing battle with the on-going drought.

Tomorrow my daughter and eight-month old Jordon leave for Vermont to find a job. Her husband and seven-year-old Kaitlynn remain here, with me, to get the house sold, pack, and be ready to move.

Transitions. I've been in Colorado nearly five and a half years. Far longer than I had planned.

Mornings when I walk, I like to get out in time to watch the hidden sun turn the mountains to rose. Sometimes, I'm successful, sometimes, not. This morning I watched two fine hawks flying the Dry Creek area and heard a chickadee whistling his mating call. In January in New England, that is such a blessed sound. Here with bare ground and red-winged blackbirds winging about and Canada geese flying from pond to pond, a chickadee singing of spring is not so revitalizing.

Then there's the ill news: bombings occurring without official war, children deformed, sick and dying from the residue of depleted uranium from American munitions, our own Gulf War veterans sickened and suffering from their year in service, at an extraordinary rate.

Tens of thousands of people speaking out against war and leaders ignoring them.

Hundreds of thousands of people speaking out against war and leaders ignoring them.

Why does co-existing peacefully always lose to greedy power-lovers in this age?

In hope,
Cherie

Photo and writing copyright 2002 by Cherie Staples.