Rocky Mountains

I am a giant reaching for the sky. My tall, pointy peaks wear snowy white hats all year round, even in the warm summer. My sides are covered in green, tickly forests filled with tall trees that whisper to the wind. Sparkly, cold rivers wiggle down from my tippy-tops, playing a splashing song as they go. I stretch so far across the land that I look like a big, bumpy spine on the back of the world. I am so big and strong. Hello. I am the Rocky Mountains.

I have a long, long story. I was born a super long time ago when the ground pushed and squeezed and lifted me up, up, up into the sky. It was like the earth was taking a big stretch. For thousands of years, the first people lived with me. They were the Indigenous Peoples, and they knew all my secret paths and listened to the whispers of my winds. They took good care of me. Much later, brave explorers came to visit. In the year 1805, two friends named Meriwether Lewis and William Clark walked along my rivers. They drew maps of my peaks so other people could come and see me too.

Today, so many friends come to play with me. Children and grown-ups hike on my trails, their feet making a happy crunching sound on the path. In the winter, they ski down my snowy slopes, shouting 'Whee.' as they slide. Families sit quietly and watch for my amazing animals, like big, furry bears who eat berries and graceful eagles who soar high in the sky. I love to share my beauty with everyone. I will always be here, standing tall and strong, waiting for you to come explore and have an adventure.