Autumn has disappeared. It vanished suddenly on Tuesday November eleventh — exactly one week beyond the moment that a majority of we the people voted to hand over their hopes and dreams to giant corporations and the giga-rich (another story for another time, perhaps) — when the errant global-warming-induced Arctic Cold Front slammed into the nation’s midsection and blew the gentle temps of mid-autumn southward until they disappeared somewhere to the south of the Gulf of Mexico.
Anyway — in the interest of finding a near optimal method of (gradual) recovery from my recent medical dilemma, I spent much of October and early November (till the climate crash) walking a LOT — always in pursuit of idyllic Autumnal moments here, at the foot of the Colorado Rockies Front Range (everything looked a lot more impressive in real life than in these shrunken photographs; still, it seems worth a try, so here goes).
First, from a perfectly calm and idyllic day, October 24, a Canadian Goose enjoying his sojourn in splashing and feathered soliloquy:
Next up and just a few hundred yards further along the shore’s margin, a patch of autumnally-tinted trees with doubled visual impact courtesy of their reflections in the glassy waters at their feet:Made me wonder, upon ‘reflection’ (sotospeak) — what if reflection, rather than reality, was existence’s real thing? What then? Hmmm; I will think on this. Meanwhile, a closer view of the central portion of the above reality seems kind of interesting when it’s flipped upside down. It’s a bit fuzzy, of course, but the rippled “brush strokes” seem to suggest something almost what — Claude Monet-esque?
Onward to the idyll of November 8th; same lake, similar trees, less color, less leaves, but same vivid reflections —
Fascinating. Here’s an isolated view of the reflections only; (Lessee; November 8th, only six days shy of November 14 and Claude Monet’s 174th birthday . . . ??)Makes one look forward to returning on THIS year’s November 14, just to see if . . . maybe . . . !!
But . . . these are new and different times. The man-caused Climate Change is (sigh) forcing severely altered weather patterns everywhere. And so it was that on the evening of November 10, the following signal was forwarded to me; it arrived circa 6:15 PM from high over the Front Range of the Rockies. The first signal — the view from my front stoop — looked just like this:
Funny how a bunch of really high (those tee-tiny mountains stand at around 12,000 feet, so . . . ) and vibrantly-colored clouds can signal a forthcoming but RAPID temperature drop that will approach 75 degrees F, but that was, indeed, the message therein embedded. Just over 24 hours later, the local temperature had dropped to nearly fifteen below zero, Fahrenheit. A day later, there were six inches of snow on the lake shore; the colored Monet leaves had been blown into at least the next county, and the geese — well, they don’t mind, really. They’re from Canada, after all, and are probably more accustomed to cold and ice than I’ll ever be. Maybe I’ll go out there and check one of these days. Or maybe not!