Exactly one year ago today I wrote this.
At 42 degrees (F) beneath the morning sun on this mid September day, at just under 11,000 feet, the air is still and warm and cozy, wearing only a light sweater with the sleeves pushed up. There's a quiet in the fall that no other season quite has. I've never figured out what it is that makes it different, but it's palpable and as comforting as a sweet embrace. I look forward to this season for that feeling and for the spectacular earth tone colors that are both beautiful and bittersweet. I also like that most of the tourists have gone home and even most of the locals have closed up their cabins until next spring.
There are some twigs breaking in the forest at this very moment. I know wild life is nearby and I like how it makes me feel. A baby squirrel plays in the trees. My dog watches, but does not chase. Another squirrel talks and it's the sound I've always wondered what is being said. A very lovely song sounds out from a small bird. In the far, far distance I hear a crow and a faint barking in a direction where people don't live. A camper with a canine or perhaps a coyote?
The clouds that covered the full moon last night have vanished and the sky is a sea of blue. It's a different, deeper, clearer blue than summer skies. I love mornings like this. My tiny cabin door is open. A slight breeze is blowing my way as I write this. Beauty abounds and so does peacefulness.
At 42 degrees (F) beneath the morning sun on this mid September day, at just under 11,000 feet, the air is still and warm and cozy, wearing only a light sweater with the sleeves pushed up. There's a quiet in the fall that no other season quite has. I've never figured out what it is that makes it different, but it's palpable and as comforting as a sweet embrace. I look forward to this season for that feeling and for the spectacular earth tone colors that are both beautiful and bittersweet. I also like that most of the tourists have gone home and even most of the locals have closed up their cabins until next spring.
There are some twigs breaking in the forest at this very moment. I know wild life is nearby and I like how it makes me feel. A baby squirrel plays in the trees. My dog watches, but does not chase. Another squirrel talks and it's the sound I've always wondered what is being said. A very lovely song sounds out from a small bird. In the far, far distance I hear a crow and a faint barking in a direction where people don't live. A camper with a canine or perhaps a coyote?
The clouds that covered the full moon last night have vanished and the sky is a sea of blue. It's a different, deeper, clearer blue than summer skies. I love mornings like this. My tiny cabin door is open. A slight breeze is blowing my way as I write this. Beauty abounds and so does peacefulness.
9/16/17
From my couch looking out my window, I could see this pine squirrel gathering pine cones. She worked for about an hour on one tree, chewing lose pine cones from one branch to the next. It snowed a little in the morning and it snowed overnight on the mountain tops. It's that time of year to begin preparing for the long winter ahead.
From my couch looking out my window, I could see this pine squirrel gathering pine cones. She worked for about an hour on one tree, chewing lose pine cones from one branch to the next. It snowed a little in the morning and it snowed overnight on the mountain tops. It's that time of year to begin preparing for the long winter ahead.
One ground squirrel below on the top left with the nut, surrounded by chipmunks.
 photo by Betsy Seeton |  |
photo by Betsy Seeton
Another successfully freed pine cone.
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