Canyons in the Grasslands...

Sunrise.

Nothing quite like awakening to mooing cows. Their gentle crying laps at your consciousness like some far flung northern lake. Then again, arriving in darkness is rather fun as well - only come morning do you see what the hobgoblins and devils are made of. This morning I sit in the southeastern tip of Colorado in the Comanche National Grasslands. Quinoa simmers to my right as Zephir coughs, puts on a show, coughs, rustles around a bit, coughs... you get the deal, eh?

This morning we're having said quinoa with avocado and dipping sauce, pu erh and yerba mate` teas and some ginger miso for good measure. Managed to hop out of bed juuust as the sun pulled itself over the edge, to the chirping of birds, aforementioned bovine companions and the rustling of the wind. This picnic area is composed of two "covered" picnic tables, a few fire rings and an outhouse. Sure glad we brought our own water.

Our particular site is on the edge of Carrizo Canyon, surrounded by short rolling hills, various coniferous trees and an abundance of shortgrass seeding this way and that. Zephir is currently taking a stroll about the grounds, like an English lord surveying the lay of the land. Off to breakfast - more later...
See, desolation!