Image by Chris R Roberts via Flickr
Mountains in Springtime hold a beauty unparalleled to anything I have seen elsewhere. You get a kaleidoscope of colors and settings. The snow melting slowly, cause fresh water to run down over the flowing fields of wild flowers. Feeding and nurturing their explosion of color and fragrance. Lush green mountain peat moss bogs, and groves of small willows. everything set against a backdrop of earth tone colors from the rock outcroppings and cliff sides.
This was always the time of year I enjoyed the most. Everyone else had already had their spring, yet we were just starting to reap the benefits of ours. The Cabin fever having a chance to be broken because the weather had warmed enough to melt off much of the high country. Yet there were places farther up, above timberline where the snow remained year round. It always provided a beautiful backdrop to view the spring wildflower eruption.
Always the sounds of Mother Nature welcoming all guests. Whistle pigs sounding the alarm anytime someone gets close to their rocky homes. Winds whispering through a grove of aspen trees, waking the largest living organism. Songbirds softly singing sweet melodies, calling to each other a welcome home song. The gossiping of a babbling brook, flowing strong, and telling a story of it’s own.
Spirits of old traveling the tundra, stretching their ghostly legs. Simply looking for a little companionship from the living visitors. Each carrying a story of their own. A story of hardship or accomplishment, each unique unto itself. Never a thing to fear, rather a comforting umbra to welcome all who choose to listen.