Izzy Bird, purple prose
Izzy Bird, side of beef

Izzy Bird, all the adjectives

Isabella is back in Estes Park and has decided to stay there for a bit. As such, she is trying to explain what “Estes Park” is to her London-adjacent sister.
“The name, with the quiet Midland Countries sound, suggests park palings well lichened, a lodge with curtseying women, fallow deer, and a Queen Anne mansion,” she writes. “Such as it is, Estes Park is mine. It is unsurveyed, no man’s land, and mine by right of love, appropriation, and appreciation; by the seizure of its peerless sunrises and sunsets, its glorious afterglow, its blazing noons, its hurricanes sharp and furious, its wild auroras, its glories of mountain and forest, of canyon, lake, and river*…. Mine, too, are its majesty wapiti, which play and fight under the pines in the early morning…”
She goes on to list nearly every species that can be found in that part of Colorado. They are all majestic. She concludes “… and all the lesser fry of mink, marten, cat, hare, fox, squirrel and chipmunk, as well as things that fly, from the eagle down to the crested blue-jay.”
And there are mountains and meadows and “great rolling prairie.” Streams and ponds and, you know, nature.
“Dismiss all thoughts of the Midland Counties. For park palings, there are mountains…for a lodge, two sentinel peaks of granite guarding the only feasible entrance; and for a Queen Anne mansion, an unchinked log cabin with a vault of sunny blue skies overhead.”
I mean … how quickly can I pack?
 
* why use one description when you can use 20?

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