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I lucked out getting to Colorado Springs ahead of this storm, with only moderately harrowing turbulence over the mountains outside of Denver. I get seasick just looking at water so maybe skipping breakfast was a good thing. The lady in front of me needed some assistance getting off the plane. I felt for her. Even fearless flyers know the relief of wheels finally bouncing down hard on the runway, although they won't admit it.
Anyway, I'm looking out right now on the dark winter wonderland of Cripple Creek. Nothing is green, nothing is growing-- but the aspen catkins are covered with wet snow and the moisture will finally bring on growth at this parched altitude. The spring snow is welcome and beautiful, and in a few days the season will be summer.
Everything is the same here, everything is different. Coming home warps time.
It seems, as one becomes older,
That the past has another pattern,
And ceases to be a mere sequence--
Or even development.
T.S. Eliot
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