Coming Home

    When I got back from Scotland, Boulder’s spring seemed a pale imitation of the lushness of Great Britain where, in mid-April, all the fruit trees were flowering and daffodils covered whole hillsides. As a tree lover, I am in awe of Britain’s trees, which are three to four times the size of Colorado’s, with huge, spreading limbs that form canopies over parks or, more romantically, over numerous churchyards where gravestones from the 16th and 17th century are covered with moss and lichens (below). In comparison, the crabapple tree in my front yard, which lost most of its blossoms this year to our late snowfall, seems thin and paltry. 
     It took me a few weeks to get my head turned around to where I was seeing once again the Boulder I love. I kept wanting to go back to Scotland, to its rugged coastline and castles and old fishing villages, now tourist towns, that seemed so far removed from the real world. I wanted to absorb all that sweet humidity.  
    When I went to my mountain cabin last week, I followed spring up the from the plains, where the trees are turning green and the fields are thick with new grass; to St. Vrain Canyon, where the aspens are just starting to leaf out; to the high mountain valleys, where the snows still deeply cover the high peaks. In the yard around my cabin the grass is just starting to emerge and the pasqueflowers, those wonderful harbingers of spring, are like small purple lanterns among last year’s leaves and pine needles (below). 
    Compared to Great Britain, spring in the Rocky Mountains is thin, a tender reed among much harshness. On Friday morning, snow was being blown from the top of Mount Meeker, even while the sun was shining. Yet spring’s fragile hold hasn’t prevented the wildlife from returning. This week, the house wren that took up residence last spring in the bird nest near the side of the house was singing his heart out. Nuthatches were climbing up and down the ponderosas. I saw chipmunks, ground squirrels, even the dark Abert’s squirrel in the front yard. But most amazing to me now are the frogs.
     Water is running everywhere, in places I’ve never seen it before, as all the snow on the high peaks melts. I found little streams coming down the hillsides, running alongside the road and forming watercourses in the meadows. Taking advantage of all this water, the frogs seem to be everywhere, trilling their hearts out.
     In Scotland, aside from the hundreds of birds, there is little wildlife, most of it exterminated in favor of the sheep who rule the land. Recently, attempts have been made to reintroduce otters, and there is talk of bringing back beavers, wiped out more than 400 years ago by those who wanted its fur. Yet here in Colorado, and most of the West, we have beavers, mink, porcupine, deer, elk, moose, bobcats, mountain lions and bears. We have wildness here, real wilderness.
    At the cabin, the moon was full and I walked out and down the road  at night to listen to the frogs. During my two weeks in Scotland, I never heard frogs. But here they filled the valley, sent their ripples from end to end. And from the other side of the valley I heard the call of a screech owl.  And I remembered what I loved about Colorado: that we haven’t domesticated the mountains but have been able to keep human intervention to a minimum, that we have deliberately set aside places where animals and nature are protected. That there’s still wilderness.

Comments

[Shari Phiel]

I had forgotten how many people in Scotland asked me what is was like to live where there were wild animals. Had I seen a bear? Or a mountain lion? How about a wolf? Yes, yes, no but I heard a pack on the next ridge over while camping in Montana. It was as difficult for me to understand what it would be like not living with wildlife as it was for those same Scots to see wild animals while hiking or going for a drive in the mountains. I hope they can successfully reintroduce otters and beavers, the value of our wildlife is immeasurable.

[Lara Robinson]

I can only imagine the visual shock of coming back to Boulder after being in Scotland, as I've never been there. Cartainly our mountains are rugged, not tamed. Wildlife is everywhere and I loved your description of spring being "a tender reed among much harshness". I used to live in Steamboat Springs where spring was much later than Boulder's, and autumn came much sooner. I had to really look to find the footprints of spring on the mountainside.

Beautiful writing, Kathy, full of lovely images, both sensory and viceral. Thanks for sharing.

[sally]

Loved this entry!! The comparison to the old world was wonderful. Never really thought that they don't have wild animals over there and really glad that we do now that you mentioned it. Here in CA we have Mt Lions running down the streets sometime!! There territory is expanding into the cities as they are protected and can recover from the slaughters of the late 18 and early 19 hundreds. I feel fortunate now that we've taken the awareness that these animals were disappearing and stopped it before it was to late, out west. Loved the picture!!

[Bettianne Shoney Sien]

Your photo with the tombstones and Lilacs is stunning. I appreciate your thoughtful and honest reflections on both Scotland and Colorado. I must say that this spring at my house the greenery is so lush, the lilac bushes so full, that I feel again an overwhelming love for Boulder. I wish you could record the frogs and put it into the blog, your description brings to mind a symphony. I love these entries! Thank you for sharing your cabin with us.

[Mandy]

I always enjoy falling in love with places I'm visiting - it's part of that vacation magic. And thankfully, when I'm home, I quickly remember what I love about living in Colorado. We were in England in April and loved the hedgerows of daffodils but I have serious doubts that I could ever return there to live.

[Priscilla]

OMG, your pasqueflower photo is gorgeous! I appreciate your thoughts on wild and tamed landscapes. Being near less domesticated land is one of the things I love about Boulder.