A fine day

The loop was a raucous festival of colors. Thanks to heavy rains, the prickly pears were covered in blooms of day-glo yellow. Meadows were filled with the crimson, purple and gold of Indian paintbrush, thistle, primrose, winecups and Mexican hats. Even the flat rocky areas were carpeted with low, lemony blossoms whose names I couldn't conjure.

Butterflies kept my company for short spurts. A goldfinch perched on a twig, and a bluebird crossed my path. (Bluebirds are infrequent migrants here, and so a rare treat.) A red hawk soared above, and chaparrals trotted into the brush. A cottontail looked up and scampered on.

Up ahead, I heard Dan and Emily's banter as they tried to best each other with their bike antics. Reveling in the sound of their mirth, I felt the sun's warmth on my face and a breeze at my back.

Finally, cresting a hill at loop's end, I looked out onto a big red sun in a wide pink sky, and the whole world felt right and good.