Friday, July 31, 2009

Full Moon Kindled In Lustrous Sterling

moon over mountain

Image by zen via Flickr

Dreaming of visions that inspire clear thought and reward serenity, complete and soulful.   Guides my mind  to a small mountain creek, flowing softly, nearly silent, over stones polished by natures tumbler.  Colors, that take the breath, captivate the spirit… shining through the iridescent water.  Water so fresh, cold, and clear.  A scent, flawless, sweet, and crisp, emanates from the darkened indigo flow.

I stroll along the creek bank, through bountiful, verdant, grasses, edging along tall willows.  Alabaster capped mountains, towering and majestic, encompass my view.  The setting sun timidly absconds to seek refuge behind craggy peaks. Serrate mountain ranges, painted in amethyst, terra, and crimson colors so vibrant and alluring.  The horizon intensified by fiery clouds, reflecting the suns radiance, slowly gives way to the lustrous sterling of an evenings full moon.

Darkness of night, pushed aside and left abandoned by the moons silvery-pearl glow.  Illuminating my trek to a small stand of aspen trees, alive and supernal, beside a quiet, motionless beaver pond.  A forest of soaring lodge pole pine, gives off the light, unadulterated, scent of pine from nearby.  Shadows, graceful and  lumbering,  cast off and forgotten, my silent companions  for the evenings beauty.

Wishes, whispered on the wind, somewhere far away, gently rustle the leaves of aspen and willow.  If you listen carefully, with your soul and spirit, not your ears, you can hear them. Wishes,  Innocent, sweet, and humble, that sing out their plaintive song.  A melody of beauty, love, and hope, to calm the restless spirit… give pause to a troubled soul.

The grandeur of a resplendent moon, reflected on the surface of the water, complete with it’s slate craters.  The face of a compassionate night sky, welcoming all and giving comfort to tired spirits of daylights torment and struggle.   Softly, the nocturnal activities of a resident beaver, sends ripples across the surface, bending and contorting the vision.  Humbling to me… even the eminence of this celestial master is manipulated by the innocent intentions of a peaceful mountain citizen. 

Serenity resides in this vision of nighttime mountain solitude.  Rewarding my dreams, and stimulating my creativity.  These are the moments I live for, lust for, and would happily spend the rest of my life searching for.

Authors Note:

The Artist Challenge is premiering Challenge 14 - Moon River, August 1, 2009.  As an undeserving member of that group of unbelievably talented people, this piece is done toArtist Challenge commemorate and promote their work.  Please visit the challenge, browse and enjoy the works displayed there.  I did submit a poem for the challenge, it will be displayed with their wondrous art work.   I’ll also publish it on my other site, Ruminations of a Small Town Mountain Boy.

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Sunday, July 26, 2009

Natures Wonders Reborn

A massive forest fire

Image via Wikipedia

I frequently visited sites of old forest fires.  It was a wonderment to me, the process, laid clearly before me.  Natures beauties stripped bare, devoured and ravaged. Sometimes by her own hand, more often though, by  ignorance,  tragic blunders or selfish intentions, of man.  Yet new growth, striving for existence, freed by the destruction, springing forth, pushing its way through the devastation.

The beauty of new young life, erupting through the tale tale signs of depredation that came before.  lush green grasses springing up beside the twisted worn skeleton of fire ravaged trees. Grey and charred, accented by rufescent oranges, as if tattooed by fire.  The pitch pine blood of the old feeding and fostering the young, timid and frail natural topiary, struggling for life. Eloquent fronds reaching skyward, soaking in the nourishing rays of summer sunlight.  The fragrant scents of new life, fresh and piercing, mingled among the charred and musty scents of defoliation.

Chipmunks and squirrels boisterous and full of vivacity, bounding among hollowed deadfalls.  Playing, presenting a symphony of warbling chirps, confessing their joy in life.  Seeking companionships and chattering amongst each other.  A cottontail rabbit, silent and watchful, caution emblazoned on it’s beautiful quiet features.  poised and ready to flee, sampling fresh sprigs of new mountain grass.  Camp robins and blue jay’s, fluttering amid the naked stalks of tree limbs barren and scorched.  Their sing song voices plaintive, sorrowful, and poignant.

I sit perched against a granite shard of stone, anonymous, quiet and still… a silent  observer.  To bear wittness with heavy heart, twisted by conflicting emotons.  Aware of the ghosts of centuries old and the emergent spirits of urchins from a new day.   Bitterness, stoic and unsteady  from the loss of ancient grandeur, yet a certain  wonderment and fascination at the burgeoning life dawning before my very eyes.  The cycle to be repeated elsewhere in which we are insignificant spectators.

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Tuesday, July 21, 2009

Timberline Temptations

Bristlecone pine Great Basin

Image via Wikipedia

July is the perfect time of year to explore the mountains along and above timberline. 

The wildflowers in full bloom, rich spotty but thick grass.  Bristlecone Pine trees, leaning, sinuous and unnaturally contorted by the winds strong winter hand.  Resting for the summer, gaining strength and reinvigoration from the  calm sun.  There is beauty in their strength and struggle.  Aged and  weary, yet resisting, continuously striving to live on.  Their spirit among the ancients, survivors of times, generations past.

Strolling along shale slopes and boulder fields.  Listening to the whistles of a Marmot, sounding it’s alarm.  Watching a Rocky Mountain Big Horn Sheep, traverse a nearly vertical cliff.  Wonderment at it’s deft footing, and ghostlike ability to climb effortlessly.  Earth tone colors meshing and mixing, set against a vibrantly azure sky, accented by alabaster, billowy clouds.  A mountain lake, effulgent sapphire  water clear as glass, unpolluted and cold.

A simple silence, peaceful and pacific, a soundless music to my ears.  Ascending a ridge, striving for the summit, enjoying the

inconceivable vistas stretching out below.    A view of mile upon mile spread before your eyes, seemingly going on forever.  The solitude, adding to the humble feeling of being on top of the world.  The gifts of the mountain spirits encompassing and comforting.

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Tuesday, July 7, 2009

Natures Own Fireworks Display, No Admittance Fee Required.

Multiple paths of cloud-to-cloud lightning, Sw...

Image taken by Fir0002 via Wikipedia GNU License

This last Saturday night, 4 th of July, I spent sitting on my front porch appreciating the copious displays of personal fireworks from all over my neighborhood.  The experience, brought to mind, many a magnificent display I have been privileged to observe over the years past.  Displays not of fireworks in the true definition, but light shows unparalleled by any of a man made origin. I’m speaking of Mother natures breathtaking displays we know as thunderstorms. 

One in particular, stands out vibrant and fresh in my memory.  Thunder storms in the mountains of Colorado, many times are “dry” lightning storms because there is no rain that follows their passing. I was in the mountains near Jefferson, Co. when the storm approached from the south.  Lighting the horizon with distant flashes, vague and obtuse at first, then strengthening as they neared.  Intermittent and  momentous  light, diffusely backlighting the darkness of the  horizon along mountain ranges, tall and proud.  

I located a prominent overlook on the road leading up to Georgia Pass. A place where I could have a good view of the show soon to be displayed before me in all it’s brilliance.  I watched as the storm seemingly gained strength, but in reality it simply got closer and closer.  As the storm passed over the distant mountain range, lightening became more defined and

 effulgent.  Jagged flashed of light following a fractured and sporadic path in the dark night sky.  Like sparks of electricity traveling along hidden circuits in the sky, jumping and arching from contact to contact.

Lightning strikes of varying intensity, bathing the landscape in resplendent, sterling, brilliance for miniscule factions of time.  A flash of light here, a phosphorescent glare there.  Outlines of the trees, rocks, terrain and mountain features  vibrant and sharp, then  an all encompassing, obsidian darkness.  Bolts of stark, bright, light  dancing their way across the night sky, fracturing, then joining again. Careening along the horizon, building a sharp zigzagging pattern.

Soon, the a distant rumbling sound, deep with base, resonates across the mountain plains.  The ground slightly vibrating, trembling with a faint unquenchable energy.  Seemingly a charge of electricity permeating the air, my hair feeling as if it’s standing on end. Goose bumps encompassing my skin, traveling up from the feet to my hands and neck.  Excitement and anticipation infiltrating my consciousness, sneaking into every nook and cranny of my awareness.  

The storm and lightshow, becoming even more vibrant and powerful the closer it gets.  With each passing mile, gaining a force incomparable, exhaustive, and resolute in its power.  The phantasms, clearer, sharper, more luminescent  with each flash.  The thunderous roar, and sharp booming explosions of sound increasing in volume, clamorous, turbulent, resounding.  The beauty and elegance of the visual display, a form of artistry itself.  The accompaniment thunder, adding a melody, beat, or rhythm to the performance.   The total, replete, power of the storm, intimidating and consummate in itself. 

A feeling of respect and appreciation fills my spirit as the storm passes over, and slowly marches to another horizon.  Destined to continue its course, playing out the bright pantomime of it’s existence for many others to appreciate. 

About a year ago, I wrote a very short fictional story about this particular storm.  You can find it on Ruminations of a Small Town Mountain Boy, it’s titled Light Show if you so chose.

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