I’ve never been to the state of Washington, but I’d be willing to bet that the Colorado skies in September are much, much bluer than those in Seattle. The thin, dry Colorado air gives the sky a purple cast so deep and vast you can only call it the color of infinity.
I live off a highway, so unless I want to take my life in my hands by dodging demented drivers or being asphyxiated by exhaust, I walk laps up and down the .3 mile rock- and gravel-strewn dirt lane in front of my home. Although the scenery provides a gorgeous setting for the trashy trailers and tacky houses, after about the ten-thousandth lap (not all in the same day!), the scenery fades into the background. Which is a good thing — I need to look down at my feet to keep from stepping on sharp rocks or stepping into potholes. Still, with writing, as with life, the significance is in the details, so during each walk, I try to find a new detail to focus on. Today it was the sky. A perfect, cloudless, September sky.