A Sea of Leaves

Autumn Gold

Aspen trees at St. Elmo, Colorado

Saturday, September 28, 2013

Golden Slumber

Autumn is a second spring when every leaf is a flower.
~ Albert Camus

What a glorious autumn we have had this year. Dave remarked this morning how beautiful and colorful the trees have been and I had to agree.

So often our Indian summers are short lived. The weather will remain hot and dry long past Labor Day, then suddenly it will snow. Other times the leaves are completely stripped by excessive windy weather and the dark, cold winter moves in much too quickly for everyone's taste.

Just ask a random sampling of people, "What is your favorite season?" and you'll discover the answer most give is "autumn." No surprise. The combination of warm, sunny days and cool crisp evenings provides an allure most people cannot resist.

Myself included.

Here's a young honey locust tree I noticed at the dog park last week. Newly planted, someday it will become a tall beauty, and each autumn it will turn glorious shades of gold, then orange. Dogs who come here to play and catch balls and zigzag around one another will be grateful for the shade and shelter its tiny leaves--clustered tightly together--will provide from a sun that burns extra hot at altitude.

You probably wouldn't suspect it, but this beautiful tree is one of many surrounding a miniature natural area in the back of our property at work. A quarter-mile gravel walking track circles two tiny ponds, next to a loud interstate and the Wonder bread factory, which spews a nearly constant sweet scent of baking bread.

On this day the wind was blowing, creating lovely ripples in the water. Rotting leaves at shoreline allowed me to whiff the scent of autumn instead of hot, sugary bread.

If I'm careful with my music selection, wisely choosing soothing New Age environmental background music, I can nearly drown out the highway noise. Soon I imagine myself gazing upwards into a deep forest canopy of gold, shimmering leaves drifting silently down to land in front of me on the soft dirt path. That is, until an eighteen-wheeler breaks my concentration...

Our maple tree struggled this summer, with the drought and extreme heat taking a severe toll on this backyard beauty. It suffered through most of July and August with a serious case of leaf scorch, but Dave treated the roots in late summer and we're hopeful it will survive the winter.

To look at its leaves right now, bright yellow tinged with green on the tips, it seems healthy as ever.

And despite the drought stress, that showy young tree felt strong enough for one last display of beauty as it prepares for winter's golden slumber, a well-deserved rest from the searing heat of summer.

Frostbitten and summer weary, the yellow roses are also ready for a nice long beauty nap.

I love how fallen leaves scurry off together and find quiet corner hiding places, where they can decompose and rest in peace.

(gratuitous dog picture)

Even Tonka and Daisy are tired.

Footfalls

Touch the Earth with your feet, lift your face to the sun, breathe the air, listen to the birds and the wind through the trees. See the glory in the creation that surrounds you.

Do you ever listen to the sound of your footsteps? There is a rhythmic thud each of us can call our own. My left foot seems to hit the ground harder than my right; a recent x-ray revealed an unusual skeletal abnormality that confirmed my suspicions.

Our footfalls also take on peculiar tones depending on the surface they touch or the foot coverings we choose. Listen to your feet land on a squeaky hardwood floor, or on a soft padded carpet, or when sporting flip-flops or wet sneakers or a brand-new pair of shoes. Each sound is unique.

How about in the forest?

We were in the Flat Tops Wilderness at the end of September, following narrow trails here and there alongside a beautiful body of water called Trappers Lake, the second largest natural lake in Colorado. It was quite a journey. We often select routes to and from our Colorado destinations not because it is the shortest distance between two points, but rather based on what we hope to see along the way.

Neither of us had been to the Flat Tops Wilderness, and Dave had never seen North Park. We drove to Fort Collins and through Poudre Canyon, a winding road that follows the Cache la Poudre River, the only river in Colorado designated as Wild and Scenic. After what seemed like an eternity twisting first to the left, then to the right, then back again, we finally emerged from the canyon and began the climb to Cameron Pass where we stopped for lunch.

Behind our picnic table, I spied a trail meandering off into the woods and suggested we take a walk after lunch. Apparently this trail is popular with cross-country skiers and snowshoers. Along the trail were high metal poles with directional signs and symbols located about eight feet above ground, which would be just about right if you were tackling this trail in the deep snows of winter.

We passed a rundown old homestead beside the trail and laughed as Tonka attempted to jump a gully, underestimated the distance and fell into a big hole. This dog is fearless; he popped right back up and continued on, giving a look as if to say, "I meant to do that!"

Tonka is a medium sized dog, sturdy, stocky, with boundless enthusiasm. I marvel at his footfalls, the energy he expends as those four paws pound the earth mercilessly. Close your eyes and imagine the sound of a horse galloping on a dirt road. To hear Tonka run is to bear witness to the miniature horse hiding inside this happy little creature.

Colorado's North Park is a vast, open range sprinkled with ranches and teeming with wildlife. We zoomed along through this stretch of country, stopping briefly in the town of Walden before heading over Rabbit Ears Pass towards our new home base: Yampa. In the small town of Oak Creek, we celebrated Dave's birthday with dinner at a cool little restaurant called Shorty's.

A fierce wind woke us in the middle of the night. Outside our window stood two nervous female mule deer, one grazing, the other scanning the perimeter for signs of danger. Surely there were more deer in the darkness beyond the motel lights. We stood in the window watching our silent visitors, whose footfalls would never be heard above the howling wind.

Dawn arrived and we packed the car for the main attraction, a trip along the Flat Tops Trail Scenic Byway. The morning light followed behind as we drove west into the wilderness, stopping at random locations along the way to gaze with reverence at autumn's glorious golden hues.

Finally we made it to Trappers Lake. We did not realize that the forest surrounding the lake had been devastated by wildfire, sparked by a lightning strike eight years ago. The stark, ghostly remains of a burned forest appear sad, forlorn. But look closely. Underneath the charred trees you see new shoots, tiny trees, grasses, groundcover, all making a slow comeback. Eventually a new forest will arise and reclaim the land.

Along the Carhart Trail around Trappers Lake, I mentioned to Dave how I love the sound of footfalls in the forest. He began to stomp his feet loudly with exaggerated steps and we both laughed. Seriously, I do love the sounds.

Natural, soft, whisper quiet steps in the dirt, a muted snap as you land on a narrow tree root grown across the trail, the crunch of dry leaves beneath your feet, a gentle sucking sound as the muddiest spot on the trail pulls a foot into its grasp, the hushed murmur of pine needles being crushed into the dirt.

I can hear them still...

See the pictures here: Flat Tops in Autumn

Autumn in New England

This past week I have been reminiscing about our last weeklong vacation in October 2006. Autumn in New England ranked high on our wish list. Our timing was not so good. While some trees held onto leaves painted in deep shades of red, gold and orange, many had dropped and were already underfoot. A local resident explained that a few days before our arrival, a severe windstorm had blown through the area. Aside from missing some of the peak autumn colors, the rest of the trip was a success. With the exception of one blustery day on the road from Maine to New Hampshire and Vermont, we were blessed with wonderful autumn weather.

We flew from Denver to New York City where we hopped a small plane to Manchester, New Hampshire, rented a car and drove up the coast. Along the way we stopped in the picturesque city of Portsmouth, then continued on to the town of Bar Harbor and Acadia National Park, where we planned to spend most of our time.

Acadia National Park is home to beautiful, rugged coastlines, the kind synonymous with Maine. We loved exploring the area, touring fishing villages, climbing out onto the granite rocks, and dipping our toes tentatively into the chilly waters along Sand Beach. Within the park is Cadillac Mountain, at 1,530 feet above sea level the tallest mountain on the Atlantic Seaboard. At certain times of the year it is the first place to view sunrise in the United States.

The park has more than 40 miles of carriage roads, built in the early twentieth century for the enjoyment of carriage and horseback riders, hikers, and bicyclists. No motor vehicles are allowed. Roaming through the woods along the carriage roads, we found ourselves alone most of the time. A trail shortcut we discovered took us straight up to the summit of Day Mountain. Although the mountain is less than 600 feet in elevation, the views out to the Cranberry Isles were breathtaking.

Next we packed up and drove across Maine to New Hampshire. We avoided interstates and highways, instead choosing rural, two-lane roads that would take us through small towns where we could see more of New England up close. We lost our way a time or two on the winding roads, some of which did not seem to match the map in my hands. Before long my internal navigation system kicked in and we were on our way.

In New Hampshire we took an exhilarating ride up Mount Washington, the highest peak in the northeast at 6,288 feet. A steep road takes you to the summit. The mountain is covered in clouds more than half the time, including the day we visited. By the time we reached the summit, you could see no more than 100 feet in front of you. The clouds were saturated with water and although it wasn't raining, our hair and clothes were soaked just walking to the summit house. It was about 40 degrees with wind gusts of 45 mph. Needless to say we did not get any photos from the top. Observers on this mountain boast that it is “Home of the World’s Worst Weather,” including the highest wind speed ever recorded: 231 mph.

After spending the night near the state capitol building in Montpelier, Vermont, we drove south through more rural roads, enjoying the quaint little towns and covered bridges. Along the way we stopped in Chelsea, where we found a lovely cemetery situated on a hill above town. We were intrigued by one Civil War grave, that of Captain Orville Bixby of the Second Vermont Volunteer Infantry. He fought in many battles including Bull Run, Williamsburg, Antietam, Fredericksburg, Gettysburg, and was killed at age 29 in the Battle of the Wilderness.

Those rural roads took us to Woodstock, a quaint and historic colonial town in Vermont. We spent most of our time strolling up and down the streets, taking photos of the buildings and homes that were so lovingly preserved. One business owner in town even displayed a colonial flag with thirteen stars at the front entrance.

After Woodstock, we jumped on the interstate and zoomed into Massachusetts for the final leg of the trip. One goal we both have is to set foot in each of the 50 states during our lifetime. I had been to Massachusetts; Dave had not. We crossed the Connecticut River at the French King Bridge and returned to Manchester. Our flight home followed the same route in reverse, so again we were able to savor the sight of New York City from the air.

In two weeks we are venturing to the East Coast again, this time to our nation’s capital then on to southwestern Virginia and Appalachia. This next vacation has been a long time coming and I can’t wait!

Autumn in New England from Deborah French on Vimeo.

Ants in Our Pants

This morning was cool and crisp, a clear sign that autumn is just around the corner. It’s the time of year I love so much. For the first time in I can’t remember how long, I closed the windows to the morning air because it was a bit too chilly. Getting dressed I picked my favorite sweatshirt to wear on my weekly grocery shopping expedition. Dave dug through his drawers and found his cool weather golfing gear.

Our furry friends both had ants in their pants this morning. Actually Tonka has ants in his pants most days, whereas the rest of us seem to suffer from a summertime-induced lethargy. Today the dogs were out bright and early on squirrel patrol in the back yard. Raven was acting like a younger version of herself. Being the hairiest of our hairy beasts, the hot weather has always been a challenge for Raven. This year has been particularly difficult since she is battling canine lymphoma and really struggles to keep herself cool. It was good to see her running the fence line with her younger cohort, trying her darnedest to help vanquish the wayward squirrels.

Since we married our lives have been pretty hectic. Between a house remodel, job layoffs, Dave unexpectedly losing his older brother, burying both our fathers and selling our childhood homes, at times the last seven years seem like a blur. At one point when we could not stray far from home, we made a list of places to tour someday. Now we are slowly working our way through the list. We’ve done a few long weekends here and mini-vacations there. Our last major vacation was three years ago when we spent an autumn in New England.

Autumn is the time of year we prefer to travel. It’s much nicer to visit places after all the little darlings have returned to school, and most of the tourists have packed up and headed home. It’s an especially good time for exploring our home state. The sun is warm and the air is cool, making those day hikes much more pleasant. We haven’t decided where to take our annual hike to see the aspens turning but we have settled on a vacation destination.

Four weeks from today we are heading to our nation’s capital, with a side tour to southwest Virginia. We have been making reservations, consulting vacation guides, even touring the city streets using satellite maps. We are both excited to get away, far away, and experience something that will jolt us out our daily routines. So I guess you could say we have ants in our pants too.

It’s time to start clearing out the gardens. My vegetable garden was a bust this year anyway, what with the crazy weather we had this spring and early summer. I’m ready to put away the gardening tools, ready for some football games, ready to start pulling out the warm and snuggly clothes, ready to fluff up an extra blanket for the bed. And I’m so ready to get on that plane and head east!