They’re sudden, those big geography shifts. Super-heated skunky waft of green rotting forest when I land in Belize. Six weeks later, Colorado wind bites my face, tropical glow sucked out the car window â€” one breath â€” as Tay and I speed home. Yes, home. A kitchen and couch and desk and patio â€” backpack in the closet, por fin. Skin dries out, hair dries out; the altitude puts a light, heady buzz over it all (who-wha? culture shock?), the sun bright and warm then gone, two feet of snow and a sky of gray snow, socking in Boulder Valley and the entire Front Range. Storm warning and I’m home, holed up,Â killing the Buddha, and taking pictures of our yard.
Belizean Blizzard in the Boulder ‘Burbs
Written ByJoshua Berman
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