Well, I first of all, I apologize for not posting for such a
long time. I have no valid excuse.
Yesterday, unknowingly for me, was the end of an era. Or, at least the season. I have spent this whole summer working
outside, enjoying the beautiful scenery, and the seemingly never-ending
sunshine. I have hiked hundreds of miles
of trail over the past 6 months, seen most of the Tahoe National Forest, and
experienced Tahoe living at its outdoorsy finest. I have bombed class 3 rapids in an inflatable
tube, climbed to peaks above 13,000 ft., explored ghost towns, caught wild
trout that only live in the mountains, used hundred-year-old saws to clear
wilderness areas, and so much more.
Needless to say, it has been an eventful and enriching season.
Last week was the epitome of a
picturesque autumn: glazed sunshine that warms you, shadows that force a pull
of the jacket tighter and colors that span the spectrum. I know I have spoken about Aspens before
(perhaps too much, as was conveyed by one reader), but I am going to speak on
them again. The trees that populate the
Tahoe area seemed to take a hint from the cooling nights. They could sense the dwindling power of the
sun and decided to begin the process of conserving their energy. The death of leaves of deciduous trees are
an annual display of change that intersperse the landscape of green and brown
with golden yellows, orange, and reds.
The change of the aspen is the autumnal mirror of the wildflower bloom
of the spring. Where the wildflowers
dwell and flourish in dells, meadows and grassy slopes, the aspen are spread
throughout the forest. Roads become
corridors of color and trails become paths lined with aspen paintbrushes along
the sides. My father often expounds that
a man typically knows only about 10 colors.
I can vouch that I am decidedly void of the ability to definitively identify
the shade that a single vein on a leaf can illustrate. I am constantly reminded of how many colors
there can be. I think only those
employees of paint and nail polish companies really understand the depth and matchlessness
that an autumn can show.
We had about a month of autumn this
year, before today. As I look out my
window, I can see the flurries of snow falling onto the six inches that has
already carpeted the ground. This is the
official start of winter in Tahoe and it is beautiful. The only sadness that the snow brings is that
it prevents any more work from being done in the field. I have really appreciated the balance of
field work and office work that this job has afforded me. During the season, I barely felt as if I was
working, but instead saw my job as a strenuous activity that I got paid
for. Who could complain about hiking in
the woods, using tools, and talking with the public about the outdoors? Don’t get me wrong, working in the office is
fine too, but there is a feeling of accomplishment and satisfaction that comes
from hard day working outside.
I haven’t lived in a place that
gets this much snow before. Already this
storm has shown me more of the cold stuff than I typically see in a year in my
home town. I’ll have to see if I get
sick of it, but there are few things more magical to me than a forest covered
in snow.
