Sometimes I tell them I live in Mount Vernon Country Club, which is also true. But the term "country club" can be misleading.
I love this place. I love the people who live here. The old stone club house, though it's been remodeled many times, still sits perched atop Lookout Mountain and looks east across the city to the Great Plains, and west to the white-tipped peaks of the Continental Divide.
The wild onions that I used to eat as a child still grow in the rocky soil. Wild harebells still bloom along the trails. Ponderosas, once saplings, tower over the old picnic ground where my father used to pitch horseshoes. The original remodeled cabin where I live and where I host one-on-one retreats, was built in 1910.
A couple of weeks ago The Denver Post published an article I wrote about Mt.Vernon. Writing the article was a labor of love. I'm proud of this community.
Abert’s squirrel and the occasional bighorn sheep, mountain lion, and bear. Wildlife corridors still meander between the homes, much as they did a hundred years ago.
You also won’t find manicured hedges and mowed lawns in Mt. Vernon, nor private wells. A carefully monitored, gravity fed groundwater system developed by the residents serves all our needs.
The buildings are clustered on a few hundred acres, and it’s this “clustering” that marks Mt. Vernon as a pioneer in land use planning and preservation. Instead of 100 homes sitting on 10-acre plots, leaving no open space, the community has 100 homes sharing a few hundred acres, leaving nearly a thousand acres of land as communal, natural habitat for people and wildlife.
Colorado Conservation Trust. The CCLC, along with their partners, is responsible for preserving over 10,000 acres.
We have volunteer committes that take care of everything from keeping our history records up-to-date, to long range planning, to weed control and stewardship. We even had an informal covey of neighbors that helped my mother during the fifteen years she struggled with cancer so that she could remain living at home.
When I awoke this morning, a skiff of snow covered the wild grasses around my home. The branches of the native ponderosas bend toward the white roofs of the houses. A single set of elk tracks cut through the yard. The sun is shining now, and as the snow melts from the tree branches, silver tear-shaped drops catch the light and glisten on their way to the sodden ground.
What a beautiful day. What a beautiful place, this country club community.