Barometric Pressure

"Being Irish, he had an abiding sense of tragedy, which sustained him through temporary periods of joy." William Butler Yeats

We interrupt this Spring to bring you a message from Old Man Winter here in La Crevice (picture Jack Nicholson in The Shinning), "I'm back!"  

They say that conversation about the weather is "the last refuge of the unimaginative." But "they" (Oscar Wilde not withstanding) must not be among those of us whose mood-song rises and falls to the tune of barometer and forecast.

It seems all of Colorado has been in NOAA's sodden crosshairs of late, dealing a low blow to long-suffering Cabin Fevered types who weathered the entirety of November through… uh, what's today? Fortunately, there is medicinal relief for the local Seasonally Affective Disordered folk. Unfortunately, it leaves a hangover and is highly addictive… not to mention waking up with someone whose name you can't seem to remember (oh boy).

Perhaps you've noticed that "mood" has been spilling onto the pages of the BCB, blurring ink and dousing joy. I'd like to blame it all on the weather, but sometimes Life's "reality bites" are a little hard to chew, let alone, swallow. I realize that there are readers of this drivel that have more appreciable things on their minds. Sometimes mood is contagious, and sometimes there is no cure for it… only "treatment." I always try to balance sober "realities" with lighthearted distraction, but don't always succeed.     

A good day on Bear Creek Trail. "La Crevie"lies just over Bobbies head. Beyond, in full sun, is Ridgway. And if you look closely, way off on the distant horizon, the sloping edge of Grand Mesa, 70 some miles away.

We've been experiencing heavy spring snows in the mountains, sometimes reaching as low as Lovely Ouray… though it melts on our warmer ground almost as fast as it falls. It is an abrupt reversal from the warmer/drier winter spent in southern Aridzona, and muddies up my outdoor plans. This portends a "light-switch" effect where, at some point, we get flipped from winter to summer practically overnight—at which time I will complain about June's excessive heat and dryness. You can bet I'll be on the boggy alpine edge of receding snowpack, looking for signs chlorophyll and wildflower shoots—doing a little anticipatory "jig" for July's monsoonal afternoons, booming thunder, and lightning shows. 

We always have a few visits from "regulars" during wildflower season. This July might be a good time to declare another "Wildflower Festival," throw out the "Welcome Mat" and do some group treks to a few postcards… just the usual sapphire alpine lakes, rustic mine-shack ruins, and floral displays that make hearts soar. 
Hmmmm…   
      

(This photo by Mr D. Yang)

Enough dreaming… 

Now how about a recent ramble up Bear Creek Canyon, on a rare fair-weather day...