Mabon                                                                      Elk Rut Moon

The final days of the Elk Rut moon are gorgeous, sunny ones. The aspen trees with their leaves still on the tree, lower down from us, blaze like magic lanterns, yellow-gold against deep green. The yellow-gold has faded to a tannish yellow on Shadow Mountain where the leaves remain. Black Mountain, which had yellow gold streaks in its green hair much like grand-daughter Ruth’s pink ones,  has bald spots sprinkled here and there with darkish browns, a mountain’s equivalent of gray hair.

A certain laziness comes with the sun’s shine as it sinks lower, rising less and less each day above the ecliptic. This light seems to offer a going out of business sale for warmth. Get it while you can. Don’t waste time. Bask now or be forever chill.

Since we live on a mountain road that connects two towns and provides entry points to the Arapaho National Forest, we get different traffic on the weekend. Often it’s bicyclists, sometimes in large groups. Today it was motorcyclists, buzzing by like formula one cars, riders leaning for the curve that begins where Black Mountain Drive turns into Shadow Mountain Drive. Oddly, I find these weekend events soothing. People want to come where we live. Of course, we also get the family car with a Thule carrier on top, bicycles lashed to a carrier on back, a dog with its head out the window.

Kate’s recovering nicely so far, the pain tamped down by Vicodin and ice. I made a pot of chicken noodle soup this morning. We’re at the beginning of a long trail for her.