Either way, the weather has finally shifted to typical Colorado sunshine with a lack of humidity that can suck the marrow out of an elk carcass. It got down to freezing last night up here and is currently 36 degrees as I write this. Tomorrow's high? 47 degrees. And that's your weather report from the 250 sq ft weather station here high up above the bustling town (with no bank, gas station, or mail delivery) of Central City. It's a nice place to live and I bid you a fond farewell as this is my last night here. To my neighbor, who makes a living building assault rifles by hand and walks around his yard with one or two in hand, while herding his six cats, please don't shoot yourself in the foot, and you might consider cutting back to three packs of cigarettes a day. Now I sound like a busy-body life coach.
To the masses ("masses" used to describe both numbers and individual girth) of people who comprise the three types of visitors to Central City in the summer months (basically July here), get a damn life. Do a sit up, get off your atv and listen to the leaves rustle on the trees, get out of your RV and take a walk. There's a lot of potential in your lives - find it. Reminds me of an imagist poem called "In a Station of the Metro" that Ezra Pound wrote:
The apparition of these faces in the crowd;
Petals on a wet, black bough.