I offhandly remarked the other day about my passion; the landscape and the plants speak to me.
On the way home we took the scenic route I asked for….through a local park called the Garden of the Gods.
I haven’t been in the Garden since October 2005 when my longtime best friend from grade school and her husband came to visit.
I had a hard time keeping up with Muse. I wanted to ditch the car, sit, and observe.
The rains have been steady this summer. I wouldn’t be surprised if we’ve broken all sorts of records. It’s as wet as I can ever remember.
By now in most years, we are drying down. The fire danger is climbing steadily. Grasses are almost fully cured Sunflowers have nodding heads filled with ripening seed. Our first frost is only a month away. And then a good freeze only a few short weeks later.
It sure doesn’t look like summer is nearly over. Everything is still so fresh and green. I see plants blooming that normally disappear from the landscape over a month ago.
Junipers are laden with berries. Ponderosa and Spruce have taken a slightly darker hue from the numerous young cones starting to thicken. Mountain mahogany bushes are thick with long tailed seeds which twist when ripened. As the sharp pointed seeds fall to the ground, the winds twirl the twisted tail, and they bury firmly into the ground. Shadscale and saltbush branches bend to the ground, heavy with their 4 winged fruits that will feed small mammals and birds all winter long. Rabbitbush, with their white felted branches sport robust heads that will soon turn a bright gold.
It’s a transitional zone between the prairie and mountains rising in the west.
I was thinking not about what I said per se….just watching the landscape rise and fall, anticipating changes in the plant communities…knowing what grows here and there. Knowing if I saw X plant, Y plant would likely be at it’s side in the thin soil accumulating in the wind and water scoured red sandstone. Sometimes the changes are subtle, sometimes those changes are dramatic.
I had two thoughts enter and then leave just as quickly…I must have dismissed them as…normal and insignificant.
One….of abundance. The landscape here is abundant this year.
Two…of what I do…the landscape and the plants speak to me.
I had this thought much, much later…..
Yah, I am abundant with the voices of the landscape and the plants.
The voices of the landscape and the plants need me as much as I need them.