This, my friends, is the post that erases all of the whining, complaining posts I write about every November through April.
This is the very reason why mountain folks endure six months of frigid snow, ice, and biting wind.
You just can't beat a glorious summer in the mountains.
Whenever I write about fences still buried in snow in April, just remind me of what that same pasture looks like during the summer.
I'm not joking when I say that every single time I drive down the highway, I bust out in spontaneous Julie Andrews:
♪♫" The Hills are aliiiiive, with the sound of music....Ah Ah Ah Ahhhh!With Songs they have sung for a thousand years...."♪♫
I don't know what comes over me, except that it's overwhelmingly nice to see green grass after months and months of dead grass and dirty snow. I want to tell the world that Arizona is NOT all deserts and cactus. But then I want them to stay away because I don't like tourists cluttering up my mountain with their R.V.'s and slow driving.
Do you see the elk?
A little closer:
It's a trade-off.