Daily Archives: August 27, 2014

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Skiers Rejoice!

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Lughnasa                                                                         College Moon

“Skiers rejoice! A dusting of snow fell on high mountain peaks, above the timberline, over night…” from today’s Denver Post

So much there. Snow in August. High mountain peaks. The timberline. Skiers rejoice! That Toto is not Minnesota news. It makes me want to be there now, gladdened by the snow and able to see the high mountain peaks nearby.

The timberline is the Krummholz line, too. The Krummholz line has stunted trees, specimens that have somehow figured out how to survive right on the border between tree/no tree altitude. These are bristlecone pines on the way up to Mt. Evans. Mt. Evans has the highest paved road in North America and is in Clear Creek County, our intended destination.

The mountains and their geology, their wildlife, their plant life all excite me, make me want to be in a new place. After 67 years as a flatlander Clear Creek County will be a major change.

 

Garden

Gathering

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Lughnasa                                                                         College Moon

Out for a brief round of harvesting this morning: raspberries, tomatoes, peppers, beets, onions. The big raspberry harvest is still ahead of us; the goldens have only begun to ripen and they’re the largest number of canes. We’ll still have more beets and carrots, plus the leeks which have matured early this year.

The August grass dripped with dew and soaked my outside Keen’s, then the lower part of my jeans as I worked. A garden in the morning, before the heat has come, while droplets of water still cling to bent over leaves is a place of promise. It is the Lughnasa/Mabon/Samain season captured in a moment in a time. The harvest is the zenith of gardening’s purpose, at least vegetable gardening.

We can imagine folks bent over their tomatoes, their green beans, their cucumbers, their squash. Striding through raspberry canes and, armed with scissors, headed into the grape arbors. They’re all over the state, all over the nation in these months, gathering food, the oldest of ancient traditions. How can the future be bleak in a garden, in the morning, in the harvest season?