I'm back after two months buried in remodeling mess. I wrote this in November
when leaves were turning gold. It's still good even though the mountain is
white, not gold now.
November 3, 2005:
I walked this morning at 7:30 with dog buddy Jazz.
29 degrees under a gray sky. The mountains were dusted white about a week ago.
For a few days the contrast was beautiful with gold and green on the lower reaches and white on top. Today gold is gone. It's gray/black granite.
Two weeks ago John and I hiked up the canyon behind Lamoille Camp and brought quaking aspen leaves back for the house. Fluorescent gold and yellow blindingly bright against dark green mahogany. We’ll go up again this weekend but into
another world as black curled leaves cover the ground in wet muskiness.
Trees stand naked against the hazy sky, black branches bare. The mountain closes down for a rest, although that will soon be interrupted by roaring snow mobile engines!
Filigree edges of the creek encroach to imprison the creek in ice.
In some ways it's my favorite time in the mountain, dormant, waiting for
the jump-start of spring.
We’re going Saturday. You come too…
We show folks outstanding country, beautiful in any season!
Janice
PS See you here again in a couple days when I'll talk about the
Cowboy Poetry Gathering!
It's a Gathering, not a contest
Why is it a Gathering, not a Contest? We'll talk
about that next.
when leaves were turning gold. It's still good even though the mountain is
white, not gold now.
November 3, 2005:
I walked this morning at 7:30 with dog buddy Jazz.
29 degrees under a gray sky. The mountains were dusted white about a week ago.
For a few days the contrast was beautiful with gold and green on the lower reaches and white on top. Today gold is gone. It's gray/black granite.
Two weeks ago John and I hiked up the canyon behind Lamoille Camp and brought quaking aspen leaves back for the house. Fluorescent gold and yellow blindingly bright against dark green mahogany. We’ll go up again this weekend but into
another world as black curled leaves cover the ground in wet muskiness.
Trees stand naked against the hazy sky, black branches bare. The mountain closes down for a rest, although that will soon be interrupted by roaring snow mobile engines!
Filigree edges of the creek encroach to imprison the creek in ice.
In some ways it's my favorite time in the mountain, dormant, waiting for
the jump-start of spring.
We’re going Saturday. You come too…
We show folks outstanding country, beautiful in any season!
Janice
PS See you here again in a couple days when I'll talk about the
Cowboy Poetry Gathering!
It's a Gathering, not a contest
Why is it a Gathering, not a Contest? We'll talk
about that next.
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