The (real) First Morning of Winter.

It was 2:30 in the morning in a small canyon on the border of Mexico and southern Arizona. Standing knee deep in cactus, I tried to ignore the ninety-degree heat of a moonless mid July desert night. A distant buzzing broke the silence, almost like one of the many border patrol helicopters I had heard flying over, searching for illegal immigrants. I was mesmerized by the sound as it moved closer and closer to me. Then suddenly I was hit right between the eyes by something very pointy and very large. The surprise alone would have knocked me flat on my back. As I shakily stood back up, l looked down. There, lit dimly in the light of my mercury vapor lamp and black light lay a stunned three-inch, long-horn beetle, known to entomologists as Stenodontes Dasytomus. I quickly scooped it up with my butterfly net and put it in a jar. Yup, I am one of those nerdy bug collectors you see running around with a butterfly net chasing insects. I love it. It’s one of my passions.
I grew up in the mountains of Colorado at eight thousand feet. My parents home schooled me all the way through grade school and high school. This gave me time, not only to identify my passions, but to pursue them, especially in the out of doors. I was a wild child. Over the years my friends even spread the rumor that I grew up with wolves as is often described in myths and legends. The truth is, as a child I spent much of my time outside, barefoot. In trees, cliffs, caves, and hollows. There is something about the earth, the feel of it, the smell of it, and the sight of it that makes me feel truly alive.
Lately I have been capturing and collecting moments of life with a camera. I take about fifty pictures a day. A thousand have been printed and stapled to the walls of my bedroom. I’ve worn out four digital cameras. I do this not because I’m forced to, but because I love taking pictures. It’s another one of my passions.
I live with passion because life is a gift. There is always something going on and no ordinary moments. I don’t want to miss out on any of it. It’s not so much the insects and photographs to be collected, it’s the process—the pursuit and the hunt that I love.
Our bathroom wall is a chalkboard and it’s covered with graffiti. One my favorite quotes is one my dad put on this wall. It reads, “The Greeks didn’t write obituaries when a man died, they only asked one question, ‘Did he have passion?’”.

My English teacher at Red Rocks had our class write a short essay that we would read in front of the class. The point of the essay would be, "I believe in...." So I wrote mine on living with passion.