From my living room window is one of the most picturesque views of Mt. Evans. On the first morning after my arrival I woke up at 6 am and wandered downstairs, still feeling disoriented and in shock from the two hour trip from the airport in freezing weather and quite honestly wondering what I'd gotten myself into.
That morning, December 3rd, I wandered over to the large Palladian window that divides the great room into living and dining spaces and stared out at the two acres of fields that make up the back yard and then up and outward toward the view of the mountains. The light of the early morning sky was a luminescent silver which made the snow on the mountains glow eerily. It was a disconcerting beauty.
Since then, I've learned to watch the mountain as a harbinger of the weather. On clear days I can see all the way to the summit. As storms move in, its highest peaks are the first to become shrouded in snow and then its just a matter of time before the summit disappears altogether.
Having that faraway vista has has become a source of pleasure and comfort, a monumental sundial that tells me the time. When I am working at my computer and lose track of the hours, it is the long shadows, the glow of the sun as it paints the clouds with hues of orange and pink before slipping beneath the edge of the mountains, that tells me my day is through.