David Hilgier Photographs

Nothing left untouched by the season. Everything a reminder of the passage of time.

A tumbleweed clings to the barbwire fence separating myself and what seemed like an infinite expanse of muted brown and gray. The washes of winter’s color only broken by an abandoned home far in the distance and the quiet created by a constant rustle of wind occasionally interrupted by the sound of tires speeding along the road by those with no intent of stopping to admire the view.

Scenes from a drive to the plains on a cold, gray winter day. Signage from an inn long past its glory days found along Interstate 70.

In a single view, limits natural and human-made.

Forgotten details, badges, and texture rediscovered along the side of the road.

The expanse of the valley stretches in front of us. Specks of ‘civilization’ dot the landscape stretching in front of us. The permanence surrounding them a reminder that we are all but guests here.

Hues of the season spread their way through the forests occupying our field of vision.

Hidden gems and faded colors found on the two lane roads crisscrossing the mountain valley.

Fall’s confetti holds on for another day before eventually making its way to the forest floor below.

The landscape at the base of the Sangre de Cristo Mountains enjoys the day’s final rays of light.