Every Fall I feel impelled by some inexorable inner force to GET OUTSIDE and ENJOY THE WEATHER. I am convinced that doing this will make the winter months more bearable (whether it actually does so? not sure) and I also feel a strong anxiety NOT TO MISS ANYTHING. (I speak in capitals merely to echo the strident voice of my Inner Self.) My other inner self tells me to calm down and that I am exaggerating the urgency of it all. This post validates all the feelings of Panicky Self and shows Measured Self that if it were up to her, nothing would ever get done around here.
As you know, we drove up Big Cottonwood Canyon a couple Sundays ago, and while there we saw a lake with a nice boardwalk/trail around it which I had never seen before (Silver Lake, I believe)---but it was too crowded and as the hour was hastening on, we didn't stop. When I saw later that the weather was going to change mid-week, I was really sad at the thought that we might go to our graves (so to speak) without having enjoyed that lovely walk. So when Tuesday afternoon was sunny and warm, I bundled the children into the car and off we went. And although Sam didn't get to come and the boys didn't do their homework and I got stuck in traffic on the way home and missed Young Women's (sorry ladies!)---I must say, it was totally and completely worth it. Because those leaves were something so fleeting that we could have blinked and missed them. But we didn't, my dears. And now that day is ours forever.
The sequel to this adventure is that we returned only five days later (the kids were anxious to show Sam every step of that trail) and it was like a whole different world. A few degrees colder, only, and still lovely, and still wild and woods-y---but just, muted and muffled and dimmed. And though I loved the muted version, I was so glad not to have missed that flash of brilliance earlier in the week.
If you read my other blog you have seen some pictures of this trip, but for you, my dear non-obligated readers, I include the best of them: a veritable, vegetable paradise. It would make the most sense to order them chronologically, but because I like happy endings, I will put the most beautiful ones last. Except for a few before/after comparisons which I will intersperse with each other. And now you know my plan down to the last detail.
Mirror with frosted mountains. I love the way the reflection is brighter/purer than the scene it is reflecting. [Insert commentary on virtual reality here]
If this is Fire . . .
these are the embers.
Trees . . .
Ghosts of trees
So placid, this lake. There was very little wind.
Here, the color of the trees themselves changes very little. But the context and the lighting make them read so differently! Warms . . .
How odd. I took the first of these pictures, and Sam took the second. Yet they seem to have a nearly identical vantage point. Either it was a very picturesque spot, or we are uncannily similar to each other.
Aaa! How did these get in here? Two bundled people.
Now we go back in time. More mirroring, and those tall watchful pines! The effect of this double image reminds me of the Rorschach inkblots. If the types of objects seen in inkblot-readings tell us about a person, what can we infer about a person who sees inkblot tests in objects? Actually I also see a heart-monitor readout in this picture. And perhaps half the head of a sideways lamb?
Light changing and dappling with the cloud cover---I love this almost abstract blending of land and sky
Shadowed, but glowing.
Suddenly, the sun breaks out! And look at those trees flame up! (like shining from shook foil, as I have said/quoted before, though not regarding trees)
Driving home. Just in time: (though not for Young Women's; sorry, ladies) the storm approaches.
Home again: looking back at the canyon, now shrouded and dark. The sky, holding on to its light as long as possible. One more glint of gold before the night takes over.