I just have to say: I often disagree with the way Colorado names things.
For instance, how can a river this beautiful be called the Poudre?!
I know, I know. It’s French; trappers once buried gunpowder along the river during a snowstorm. (Powder = poudre.) I don’t have to like it.
These shots were taken on the same day as our adventure in State Forest State Park (see, with the names?!), on our drive home through Poudre Canyon. It is cold enough at night that the river is freezing, leaving partial sheets of ice in a shade of green that glitters in the daylight.
Have I mentioned I can’t wait to attempt fly fishing?