The drone hummed softly as it rose into the cool, mild fall air, lifting me above Boulder’s campus. The day was crisp but gentle, a light breeze carrying the earthy scent of autumn. The trees were alive with brilliant reds, yellows, and oranges, their leaves swaying softly in the wind, creating a perfect canvas of color beneath me. It was one of those rare days when nature seemed to settle into a peaceful rhythm, inviting me to pause and appreciate the beauty of the moment.
From above Folsom Field, I could see the campus stretch out below, its buildings standing firm against the backdrop of the towering Flatirons. This land had seen so much—generation upon generation had walked its paths, leaving their stories etched in the soil. The field, now quiet and empty, was once a place where thousands of voices echoed, creating memories that would last a lifetime. But long before the first stadium was built, this land was home to native tribes and early settlers, each shaping the land in their own way.
Flying the drone was a delicate task. The wind, though mild, shifted unpredictably, requiring constant adjustments to keep the camera steady. My fingers were cold, but steady, as I guided the drone higher, capturing the perfect balance of light and color. There was a challenge in every movement, but that only made the experience more rewarding.
Through the lens, I saw the buildings of the campus nestled beneath the sweeping grandeur of the mountains. The play of light on the trees and the land reminded me how deeply connected nature and history are. In that moment, I was both a part of this land and an observer of its timeless beauty.
