I knew snow was forecast when I went to the cabin this week. Still, it was a shock to see the grass coming up through the snow and hear the hummingbirds buzzing, while the drifting flakes changed from hard grauppel to lightly feathered, as the temperatures flirted around the freezing mark.
My brain was confused. It appeared to be winter—snow on the ground with more snow coming down and the pine trees heavily smothered in white, —and yet the calendar says May 21, and there’s new plants coming up, the aspens are starting to leaf out, and young ground squirrels are running around.
I headed for the Fern Lake Trail in Rocky Mountain National Park, where there were more incongruent sensations: as the snow drifted around me, waterfalls spilled off the cliffs to the north; small purple violets were popping up; the leaves of the willow and dogwood bushes were starting to unfurl; and the small meadow by the river seemed impossibly green.
After a while, my mind stopped trying to compute this paradox and accepted it, because the landscape was truly beautiful.
There’s the soft brush of lime green from the aspen trees across the creek; the tenderness of the whirling snowflakes; the intense colors of the moss and lichen on the boulders; and the fragments of clouds that circle the mountains, muting their harshness. On top of all these visual sensations, all this moisture has released deep, fragrant smells that haven't existed since last fall.
But it’s a cruel beauty, too, because nature has to suffer, has to endure colder temperatures than usual. The hummingbirds, in particular, have to work harder to stay warmer and find food. The usual food sources for chipmunks, bears and birds in spring are delayed, so animals must find other sources—sometimes at the cost of starvation.
And it’s ominous too because this cold weather that has persisted for weeks would indicate a new and disturbing weather pattern –one with the potential to disrupt life. I’m torn: do I enjoy this day of new sensations or worry about the future of this planet? A little of both, I guess. It's the paradox of our lives now.
Some Native American sage once remarked that worrying is like paying interest on a debt you don't owe. Since worrying does nothing but compromise your mental and physical health, I'd say just enjoy. There are effective ways of working for the future of the planet; I'm damned if I'm going to give up my joy along the way.
Posted by: Jennifer Woodhull | May 24, 2019 at 01:21 PM
Wishing you warmth. I like the lichens on rock image. I have a hummingbird in my backyard. Saw it in the lilac bush yesterday. I quickly prepared the hummingbird feeder. There are a few different variety of butterflies I saw recently too. One of them being either a monarch or viceroy. I saw a hover fly on my patio too. It's beginning to resemble a summertime feeling even with almost a month remaining of springtime. I planted a mix of wildflower seed near my patio. Will see later this summer if it attracts any wildlife. On your next trip up to Wisconsin. Make a pit stop in Wausau. I could show you my place and there's a Botanical Art exhibit coming to my neighborhood art museum this summer. Link: https://www.lywam.org/exhibition/botanical-art-worldwide-americas-flora/
Posted by: Brent | May 26, 2019 at 04:49 AM
Brent, I'd love to visit you in Wausau, especially as I love all your photos of Wausau and the farm and the surrounding area. Unfortunately, this year I won't make it to Wisconsin--too much going on this summer. Let me know next time you're out here.
Posted by: Kathy Kaiser | June 20, 2019 at 09:13 AM
Jennifer, I like your attitude. Can I share it?
Posted by: Kathy Kaiser | June 20, 2019 at 09:14 AM