Yesterday we found ourselves near a reservoir surrounded by the crisp, autumn morning air and a rainbow of fallen leaves. With the tips of the peaks covered in new fresh snow, the golden yellow and red of the turning aspen trees danced in perfect contrast. We saw several hawks and falcons and even a golden eagle, waiting on the power poles for the thermals to heat up so they could take flight. It was one of those days when the sky is so blue; that clear, clean blue that goes on forever and doesn't look real. A pristine imagination couldn't dream this day any more perfect.
He was a little crabby. Too crabby to wear his gloves and explore on his own. He didn't want to stack rocks or throw berries at me. His sweater was bugging his neck and Mason couldn't get near him with out being squealed at, but Diego never left his hand. It wasn't funny when I threw handful of leaves at him and even lifting my camera to my eye had him hiding his face in his hands. Of course I thought it was adorable - his little fits of protest, and I continued to torment him just a little, preserving it forever.
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