Descriptive Essay On Sangre De Cristo

Sangre de Cristo Far from and high above the raging Atlantic and expansive Pacific, surrounded by tall forests, large deserts, and cut off from nearly all hints of human presence lies a small paradise deep within the Sangre de Cristo Mountains. Here, the cold mountain air has a cleansing quality; it calms the mind and washes away the dirt and grit of the city air. At night the skies are so clear that, even on a full moon, the stars come out to play. They illuminate the world beneath with their whimsical light, allowing the shadows of the ponderosa pines to dance along the ground, speckling their groves with deep shadows and bright, moonlit patches. As the star and sun rise from their slumber the wind slips down the mountainside receding into the plains down below — it is tired after a long day of climbing the steep slopes. The forest, however, is never at rest. As the last breeze rolls off the mountain top the solitary mountain lion opens his luminescent yellow eyes. Slowly it rises to its feet, prepared once again to start its long night. The only noise it

He was disappointed that his new source of entertainment was ending so early, but nevertheless returned to his job of watching the forest. As his head turned a full 270 degrees he realized, with dismay, that the mountain lion had disappeared. In a display of worry uncharacteristic to him the owl prepared to take to the air, but, just as his magnificent wings began to unfold he settled down. A twig had snapped. Slowly, as if in molasses, his head turned towards the noise. Bathed in moonlight was the mountain lion, slunk low to the ground, belly rubbing against the course grass beneath him as he approached the visitors temporary homes. One paw reached out, claws extended, to touch the structure’s flimsy sides. As the claw made contact with it, the side