I always seem to end up in the foothills at this time of the year.
Backpacking in a few inches of snow (as opposed to backpacking while skiing through fresh powder) does not call out to me as much.
I look out my small deck at Casa Mags and see that the foothills are a spectacle of color.
The willows are yellow. The cottonwoods are gold. And the sumac is a glorious and blazing red.
It is enough to wake up, enjoy some coffee. Perhaps make a leisurely breakfast. And go hiking most of the day in an area at its peak beauty.
It is good enough for me.