Seasonal marbling: flurries, berries, and theophanies.

With the forecast iffy at best, we threw caution to the wind and ended up having a splendid, if windy, time on trail. A friend in town from mountain-less Boston, MA who had lugged well-lugged shoes cross country was not to be daunted from a little unpredictable weather!

kristi5

After all, that is why the wise alpine traveller dresses in layers and carries a rucksack. The marked change in weather pattern was palpable as the day shifted from warm glow to blustery “brrr,” sometimes within seconds. Snow swirled in the air while the sun backlit nearby peaks.

kristi6The blueberry plants had lost all their leaves, but still held plenty of fruit on the stalks for some drive-by-berry-picking. After several light frosts, the wild ripeness was incredibly sweet; somewhere between dried and pied.kristi4It wasn’t long until we hit the consolidated snow from all the lowland rain we got at the end of September. Days and days of it that my sister and her fiancé trudged through at the end of their five month hike from Mexico to Canada; but that’s another story…kristi2Something about snow that the pups just can’t get enough of!kristi12My wife has a perfect word for the sun rays that angle (ang-el?) down from the cloud-eclipsed sun. She calls them theophanies. (theo=god, phany=showing)kristi10Mountain ash, not too good baked at 375. kristi9Another sign of changing seasons…these southbound geese were an absolute cacophony!kristi13Succulents are the epitome of tenacity and resourcefulness. This one seems to be hunkering down in preparation for the dozens of feet of snow that will blanket it very soon.kristi11Fall mixes with winter here in the northern hemisphere and we are along for the ride. Might as well participate rather than insulate!

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3 thoughts on “Seasonal marbling: flurries, berries, and theophanies.

    • Yeah, it made a good study-break. Maybe I spoke too soon about the mountain ash; just looked it up and at least some varieties are edible. Never heard of anyone eating this type though.

  1. This past weekend, a friend and I did a hike in the Snoqualmie Valley, and felt ourselves on the knife-edge between autumn and winter. We set out in the rain, and as the trail gained altitude it turned to snow. We scrambled down a ravine to collect some photos of the creek, and while we were distracted with our cameras, the Doug firs around us collected a thin dusting of white. Good times in the Northwest.

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