Impressions of Castlewood Canyon
Just a short drive from my home, Castlewood Canyon State Park has become both my creative refuge and my closest escape into the wild. It’s technically the nearest Colorado State Park to me — yet every time I walk its trails, it feels like I’ve crossed into another world.
Castlewood sits quietly on the eastern edge of the Front Range, where open plains begin to surrender to stone. The canyon’s steep walls, carved by Cherry Creek, hold stories of ancient floods and enduring resilience. In the winter months, you can spot nesting birds of prey perched high on the cliffs — red-tailed hawks, kestrels, and the occasional golden eagle, each one commanding the air with stillness and grace.
By spring, the energy shifts. Life returns quickly here — sage and wildflowers take hold — but so do the rattlesnakes, sunning along the rocky paths. I’ve learned to watch where I step, respecting their space as much as I revere the view.
This park has become the muse for my current digital painting series, a tribute born partly out of convenience — it’s so close I can wander it on a whim — and partly out of longing. There’s something magnetic about the landscape east of my home: the vast sky, the fractured cliffs, the mountains rising faintly in the west.
Castlewood reminds me that art doesn’t always demand distance. Sometimes, beauty waits just down the road, calling softly until you answer.
