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My “home range” covers the Rocky Mountains of Colorado down through the Sonoran Desert of Southern Arizona.  You can easily describe Boulder, CO and Tombstone, AZ as both wild places;  the 634 miles between the two is both beautiful and fearsome, wild and tame, calm and turbulent, a place for cavemen and cowboys.  Each season is different, and each season is something I savor.

I am a caveman because I constantly relish the primal side of being human — call it the “nature side of me” if you will.  I feel that peace I so often seek when I’m outside — hunting in the forest, sitting stream-side, resting in a lush, hidden wash, dining at a perched table of granite that overlooks the canyon below, or taking the time to just look at the night sky and listen to the faintest sounds that you can hear only when you’re still.

I am a cowboy because it’s a rough-around-the-edges type of description that fits — call it the “social side of me” if you must.  Stereotypes notwithstanding, maybe the cowboy is more advanced than the caveman, more intellectual, more civilized, more affable, a different style of rustic, a different type of music, and is a different sense of society.  But they’re the same person when outside in nature under the sun, stars, clouds, and sky — they just have a different set of tools.

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