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It’s that time of year when the temperature slowly drops, adding a welcome crispness to the environs. The mountain air is visible as a misty breath when exhaled. Mother nature deposits pure, white, crystalline surprises on the mountain tops. Extraordinary colors are born within the aspen trees and mountain foliage. A magical time, of slumber and change. The beginning of nature’s suspended growth, a hibernation of beauty and beast.
In the mountains, it comes early, the end of August, beginning of September. That time of year when a heavy wet snow can envelope your domain overnight, and be gone by days end. A special time of year, cleansing and refreshing.
My thoughts wander, taking me on a journey of times past. Trails explored, high mountain bowels traversed. Rejoicing in the wonder of natures own stimulating, dynamic, art. Mountain lochs framed by newly formed ice, reflecting a kaleidoscope of color. Pure, fresh and cold, the water makes it’s own prism of refracted light. A spine tingling beauty, so magnificently exquisite it takes the breath away.
There are few places where the changing of seasons is so pronounced. Punctuated with visual beauty and splendid colors. A progression of time displayed in wondrous pictorial scenes. When you add the magical sunsets to the canvas, the reward is stimulating.
A setting sun, lights the sky with embers of fire, coalescing in charismatic shades. Shadows darken, accented by brilliant lavender, rusty wine, and subdued ochre. The rugged horizon concealing a flaming sun, casting ghosts upon the elaborately colored foliage. A far away wind stirs the fresh mountain top snow, swirling a faint pattern, like intricate lace, over the peaks. The cold soaks through the bones, enlivening senses, awaking the spirit. An experience, sensual and exhilarating.