They call Kentucky the blue grass state, but from my experience, the grass is greener here.

In the days after we moved, Daisy was our clock. Every day at 5 O’clock, she would let us know that it was time… dinner time. In Texas she was content to eat at 6, but I guess there was something in that Kentucky air that made her hungry. When I would come home from work at 5, I was greeted by a lean, scraggly pup who knew how to get what she wanted.

In those days, Daisy ran the house.

We made our way through the aspens and up the tedious hill upon which that impressive boulder sat. It was for her that we had come all this way. I was so excited I hardly noticed the drizzling rain, or realized the implications it had on our expedition. I rushed to the base of the rock, her walls looming some thirty feet above me, imposing the most inviting shadow. I slid on my La Sportivas as the rain continued to increase; nervous, but determined to at least get off the ground. Reassured by Grant’s presence as my spotter, I swallowed my fears and began the ascent.

The rock was slippery, but, boosted by adrenaline, I pressed on. After ten feet’s progress, it became too wet and dangerous to continue. I climbed down a hero. I hadn’t reached the top, but…I was ALIVE.

We rushed to pack up as the clouds unleashed their full fury. The cold deluge had us soaked through by the time we returned, and though not what I had hoped for, it had been a thrilling adventure. Someday I’ll return to that beast of a boulder to stand atop her summit, a conqueror.