A Little Bird

I never knew hummingbirds traveled with such a distinct sound.  At least, the variety that populate the high country of Colorado announce their presence throughout the daylight hours with a hybrid avian-insectile trill.  One imagines that if they perhaps slowed their frantic flitting their ceaseless search for calories needn't be so frenzied.  But then they'd have a completely different nature, and would forfeit what makes them so captivating.

I've been trying to be a responsible person, grocery shopping only occasionally, hand sanitizing, going on remote hikes with this guy:

panoramic Yankee Girl Mine ruins

still-icy Columbine Lake

I'm not sure how to classify an afternoon at the clothing-optional hot springs -- I maintained social distance, yet I can't help thinking these sorts of places are closed throughout the rest of the world.  I spent the 4th of July far (very far) from any crowd, and boosted my immunity with several infusions of s'mores.

It just so happens I recently had my lung function and capacity tested (for potential upcoming work).  Decades of choral singing and the last month of hiking above 10,000ft still left me seeing stars and choking on air from this weird little experiment.

Now for a final few days out west, I'll splash around in a big reservoir and play roulette with Antarctica staffing decisions.