My favorite day of the year has arrived. The sun is with us for a glorious 14 hours and 59 minutes today, which is about 40 minutes fewer than it would be if those pesky mountains weren’t in the way. Or about 4 hours fewer than if I were in Homer, Alaska, as I was around this time 2 years ago. But it’s 2 hours longer than if I were in Managua, Nicaragua, as I was around this time 9 years ago. I think a lot about how much sunshine I can absorb in my lifetime.
In any case, I love this day. I celebrated by actually showing up at work before 9 AM. No, not really. Well, I did, and that was a miracle, but not the celebration. I spent this perfect morning in the park with my 60 pound lap dog.
But last weekend, a few of us ladies packed up the camping gear and fishing rods and headed to Rocky Mountain National Park to take advantage of those pesky mountains and the long days and the balmy weather. This, ladies and gentlemen, is an hour from my house. This, dear readers, is why I live in Colorado. This, urban aficionados, is what summer weekends are made for.
I had hoped to catch a fish worthy of a boastful photo to post on my dating profile, but sometimes fishing is not only an exercise in patience, but an exercise in futility. Or it’s the perfect excuse to abandon all responsibility for 36 hours and simply be outside. As long as you bring enough sandwich fixings for lunch, plenty of beer, and sirloin shish kebabs from Whole Paycheck to grill up for dinner, it doesn’t matter if you only catch and release the tiny trout. Let them live. This world is too amazing to not be a part of.