Monday, September 19, 2016

My Sequoias

Told that visits to the giant sequoias were apparently not feasible during my visit near and in Yosemite National Park, I was keenly disappointed. Then I learned of a small grove that was relatively close, albeit on a road far less traveled (for good reasons). 

 Since the sequoias were a main objective of my recent trip, I found the road – actually, ‘road’ is too generous a term – and inched my rented car over the dirt ruts until I found the grove. After 45 minutes without seeing another human or vehicle, it was reassuring [and somewhat astounding] to spot two other cars in the little parking area. 

I had four sheets of paper with directions, descriptions, and maps of the trails around Nelder Grove. None of them were of any use to me. I have no idea which trail I took or which trees I saw. None of that matters. 

Within a few moments after leaving my car, following the soft dirt path into the forest, I was enveloped by the embrace of trees. Shade and silence, dappled by sunlight, drifted peace into my soul. 

I noticed little things: moss, a spider web, a heart shadow. 

And, every once in a while, a great old tree. I strolled, ambled and wandered for hours, absorbing the beauty, letting it heal me. 

Finally, hours later, thirst and fatigue forced me to turn back. Eventually, I found my car, the primitive road and the highway … and a restaurant where I drank a gallon of water with my late, late lunch. 

What a splendid, splendid day.

Tuesday, September 6, 2016

Three Sun Salute

It's the week after Labor Day and Colorado weather is perfect. On the perimeter of my yard, three kinds of yellow flowers cascade salutes to cool mornings and evenings and days of sunshine.

.... sort of  Blackeyed Susans ... 

sunflowers ...

and on the side yard those yellow flowers whose name is a mystery

Perhaps we are not supposed to notice but other yellow things appear -- every once in a while one falls on the lawn, quietly, solitary. 

Each is a tiny prelude of the avalanche to come . . . reminding us to savor present conditions, present beauty -- to breathe in the gentle interlude -- the present moment.

It's all good.