Write a new post in response to today’s one-word prompt.
One of my favorite colors is purple. Along with red. Maybe I should join the Red Hat Society, so I can wear a red hat with a purple dress.
Actually, the first thing that came to mind was “For purple mountains’ majesty, above the fruited plain” from America, the Beautiful.
I was born just on the other side of those wonderful mountains, in Grand Junction, Colorado. We lived there only for a little while, until I was two, when my parents chose to move north to Minnesota. So, for this flatlander little girl, the Rocky Mountains were like a fairy tale.
We drove to Colorado a few times to visit relatives on both sides of the family. Mom had a sister in Denver, and Dad’s family were on the western slope. I still can clearly see and remember the excitement of getting that first hazy blue look of the mountains on the horizon as we crossed from Kansas into Colorado. The giant peaks were just a little blue, jagged line at that first sighting, but as the day progressed, they gained substance. As the sun moved, toward evening, they really did look purple. I remember having that song in my head a lot during the course of the day.
And when we were actually there, ready to cross from Denver to the other side, there was no super highway to take us over the high passes like there is now. There were hairpin turns as we snaked our way up one side and down the other. My poor mother was always so nervous until we had gained the top and were finally heading down, especially when we drove over Loveland Pass.
I’ve often wondered how the pioneers who took their families across high mountains in covered wagons must have felt when they got their first up-close-and- personal look at the obstacle course. I’m sure that some of them decided the Eastern Slope was beautiful, and stayed there.