Twice to date I have been graced with the good fortune of visiting Mesa Verde National Park. The park is covered with phenomenal cliff-dwellings on the sides of the mesa, many of which one must climb down to from the plateau above.
I would live here if I could. I would climb the cliff faces, farm the high ground, take shelter from storms in the outcrops, watch the wild horses graze on the high-altitude shrubbery and grasses.
Mesa Verde is yet another archaeologist’s dream coupled with the fantasies of young children and modern city-dwellers.
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