|hello snow, it's been awhile...|
Living in Texas for a couple of decades has desensitized my awareness-and therefore my (mental) sequential progression-for the seasons. In Texas, it'd be Africa hot for months then boom, one day it dumps freezing rain (and all the hayseeds crash their dualies) and I realize Fall must be here. Living in Colorado, near 9000 feet (2700m), when the season changes it's a sensory experience. It gets colder, the colors on the trees change, especially our Aspens that slowly tell me a progression towards Fall's coming, and eventually it snows and I realize I didn't harvest enough firewood.
|Happened moments before I got there|
|normally this is a two-lane interstate|
Took some pictures of people who didn't prepare as they should have driving-wise. Normally, I-70's a two laner but as we negotiated one of the many hills, this one on the way to Frisco from Breckenridge was particularly difficult for a front-wheel drive Honda Fit that got sideways trying to grab onto the snow. We parted like the Red Sea to get around it. Thank you four wheel-drive. Living at our elevation, the bare minimum's all-wheel drive but to really negotiate the record breaking or the wicked one-day dumps, you also need clearance. A pickup truck accomplishes both; furthermore you need the bed to haul firewood.
The forecast at Grand Junction was 55°F, partly cloudy with little wind. It was actually quite pretty, with a tad bit cold thrown in to remind us it's Fall. Maricel's team won 2-0. Exciting to watch but not particularly looking forward to drive back home, especially if it's snowing again on Vail Pass (which it was).
|partly cloudy and 55° F in Grand Junction|
|not bad for a cell phone, no?|
|our Aspens from our backyard|
...which is the listening to sacred, choral music (Melissa reminded me of this recently). I used to perform music in both symphonic band and choir and used to sing Handel's Messiah back in the day. But what really made it endearing listening to sacred choral music was when I was stationed in Germany. My friends and fellow airmen and I did a lot of skiing in the Alps. My friend had a real nice 5 series bimmer and when we'd drive back to base from say, France or Switzerland, he'd always pop in Handel's Messiah. Cruising the autobahn at night looking at all the gray bleakness of the snowtopped mountains and exfoliated, silhouette of trees made the music (especially when the brass and screeching sopranos kick in) that much more ominous and brooding (the Fall/Sacred Music association). The auditory clue that started my Fall connection was Melissa digging a radio broadcast of some Bach sacred music. She researched their playlist and concluded it was Bach's Saint Matthew Passion. We reserved it at our public library and it's made its way onto my iPod and iTunes library (rest in peace Steve Jobs), where it's currently resonating in my head.
Hello again Old Man Winter. I don't particularly like the way you malinger here until May and knockout our electricity when you unleash your super heavy, wet, spring dumpages. For now, it's alright and skiing's a'knocking with our WinterPark passes ready to be used up for some darned sweet family entertainment.