Looking down upon the Weminuche Pass
A day in the life
A moment in time
Fleeting as a running deer
For a few days only we feel the heat
Exposed white legs reluctantly slipping into shorts
Seeking shade and breeze and brightening up at the offer of lemonade
How quickly these few weeks of summer last
Like the roll of a wave in the sand it comes and goes
The rush of wildflowers burst into bloom in the high country
Washing the hillsides with gushes of bright blossoms
Color awash in the branches as the birds too make the most of the short-lived season
All at once in the lush summer leaves the blue birds, robins, grey jays, chickadees, ravens and brilliant yellow and orange of the Western Tanager.
How quickly the cycle of life is played out
With leaves on the trees having filled out but weeks ago
The grass grows tall
Seed heads emerge
Swaying softly in rhythmic swells as a hot afternoon wind passes across the hillside
We look for the change of the light
The lowering the softening the crispness in the air
Inevitable we know this change will come
And enduring the heat so brief
To which we are unaccustomed and uncomfortable
Trying to savor every precious bead of sweat as we sit in the heat of the sun on the deck for a break and rest in what feels like stifling heat
So precious
So fleeting
Rare like a pearl found diving in the sea
We hold it before us in wonder
Amazed by the precious beauty
Before we drop it
Lost in the shifting sands
Knowing it will not last
The short season passes quickly
Life dies across the mountain
Migrating hibernating wilting freezing
As the cold and white and still and silence
That is winter
That is so long in our year
That seems to last forever at times
Spreads across the land
Comes
And stays
Remains with us for months
Chilling away the noise and stress and time and remembrance of this heat and life
Progress and passage
Leaving us with nothing
But the cold still silent mountain
And the heavy blanket of white
And in this heat
This beautiful short and sweet and lively season
Would you believe
There is a secret longing
Deep inside
For the return of winter?
Noticing the smallest changes; a miniscule snail on a rock in the sun.
Heading back to Ditch Camp… back Thursday night… have a good week…