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Late at night, after a long day of emails and meetings, CMarie climbs on top of a horse. She rides without saddle or bit into a frozen meadow under snowcapped peaks. There, with the bobcats and the aspen and the snow, she feels as big as the wild itself.

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This episode takes place on Ute homelands.

Host and Writer: CMarie Fuhrman Field Recordist: Jacob Job Outdoor audio recorded at Rocky Mountain National Park, Colorado Editor: Erin Jones Producers: Rebekah Romberg, Kibwe Cooper Art: Maria Juliana Pinzón Executive Producer: Brad Turner Additional Editorial Support: Jo Erickson, Luis Antonio Perez, Emily Williams Thanks also to Jodi Gersh, Clara Shelton, Arielle Wilson, Martin Skavish and Jon Pinnow

Terra Firma is a production of Colorado Public Radio's Audio Innovations Studio.

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From Colorado Public Radio, this is “Terra Firma.” Hello friends, I’m CMarie Fuhrman. Each episode of “Terra Firma” brings part of the natural world to life with a new insight to take with you. Come with me on this journey [sound of swift wind blowing steadily]. This time into a frozen meadow beneath Colorado’s snow capped mountain peaks.

It is after 10pm when I lead Doc from the barn. The old gray gelding, growing whiter each year, matches the landscape we are walking into [steady hiss of wind]. All day it snowed. But the storm passed, the sky cleared, and into it rose a full bright moon [owl hooting]. It was this I could not resist. A moonlit snowscape, late December, beneath Colorado's Collegiate Peaks. Doc lowers his head, and I guide the bridle over his ears and lay the reins on his neck. I place a blanket on his back, then pull myself astride him. He is a gentle horse, a good companion. We leave the bit, saddle, and barn behind as he carries me into the moonlit meadow [light rhythmic horse footsteps, wind, owl hoots].

The day had been filled with screens with words. Words on lists, words in emails, words from people in phone calls and meetings. The noise of the day – even those domestic – had reduced me, buried me under demands, eroded me with questions whose answers I lost or answers that simply didn't matter. All afternoon I dreamed about the time when I could turn it all off, go to bed, close my eyes, fall into a dream that was nothing like my waking hours. But even as I pulled the blind down against the moon's light, it pressed through as if promising a different way to see.

[Wind whooshing through vegetation steadily like radio static]

At the top of the horizon in front of me is Engineer Peak. Behind us is the town of Buena Vista. Not far away, the Arkansas River is frozen at her edges. The bear who visited my cabin this fall is hibernating in a grass-lined den, but the bobcat that stopped to peer in the sliding glass door two nights ago [owl hooting] is awake. Her thick fur and paws are quiet as any in this range. She is made for this season.

Doc's hoofs make the only sound. The snow is fresh, and the air is cold; his steps are more creak than crunch. If stars had a sound, I wonder, would it be like this, or would they emit something lighter. Distance belies their immensity. But the closest stars glitter in the moonlit sky. The tops of the peaks are shining like lighthouses, and though reaching them is an impossibility, I ride toward them as if it is not [steady tempo of hoofsteps].

At the end of the meadow, Doc steps into a young aspen grove. The limbs are bare of their leaves now, but I recall a few weeks before when they were thick with gold light and how standing among them, I felt their radiance, even warmth. In July, when their leaves were green and their bark was cool, my dogs and I took a respite from the heat [owl hoots].

As we weave through the trees, the dark spirals look like eyes watching, and I recall a story about how aspen came to be. A pair of lovers, already committed to others, would sneak into the forest to be together. When they were found out, they were banished to the woods as aspen. There, rooted in place, untouching, they were given eyes and forced to stare at each other for eternity. But that is not the story these aspen tell. Their dark eyes seem filled with wonder, contentment, and compassion as they look at meadow, mountains, and even me.

Doc slows to a stop [slow hushed hoofsteps come to a stop]. I turn and look back at the field, the peaks, and the sky. I have read that in these moments when experiencing such vastness, others feel small. But that is not how I feel.&nbsp;&nbsp;

I lie forward and put my cheek against Doc's neck. I smell his rawness, that combination of earth and sweat, and look through the steam of his breath at the tracks we left to get here. It is not ego nor knowing my humanness that makes me feel large. It is this: a meadow of new snow. Mountains whose names I do not know, tops of trees that only rain and seraphim have touched. And a sky whose blue-black depths on this winter night inspire wonder. It is silence. It is a landscape that reminds me there is more than words and jobs and demands. It reminds me of the possibility that within me lies a similar vast, open, quiet wilderness. Here, I am not reduced by the vastness. I am enlarged by it. I do not need to escape. I simply need to step outside.

Doc exhales, and the cloud of his breath rises into the night. Somewhere an owl calls whoo, whoo. And the vastness becomes larger still.

[Wind sounds like constant white noise, owl hoots]

This field recording was gathered by Jacob Job. I’m CMarie Fuhrman. “Terra Firma” is a production of Colorado Public Radio.

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Terra Firma is a podcast about the outdoors, the sounds of the natural world and our place in it. Each episode runs about 5-10 minutes and pairs reflections on nature with gorgeous soundscapes captured in wild places.

Terra Firma

Late at night, after a long day of emails and meetings, CMarie rides her horse into a frozen meadow under snowcapped peaks.

Snowy Starry Horse Ride (Collegiate Peaks, Colorado) | Colorado Public Radio

Snowy Starry Horse Ride (Collegiate Peaks, Colorado)

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