Colorado has no averages. It does not have any medians. It has both ends of a number line, it has every page in a children’s book of opposites. It hasn’t taken the time to add together every extreme and come up with the middle. There is too much color, or none at all. There are empty skies or drenching rain. There is heat, and then it is cold. There is the stillness of a pristine mountain lake, sheltered on all sides by the highest points in sight. Or there is a micro burst, wind shattering the laws of physics and half the trees. There is a dry stream bed, or a raging torrent that takes geological monoliths as more like a guideline to be smudged and re-arranged.