When I was a freshman in college, living in the dorms at CU, I have this vague memory of the wonderful late summer coming to a crashing halt sometime around September 23rd, when a wet snow surprised us. I'm pretty sure that's when it happened. Probably didn't last long, but it would have been a rude awakening for this kid from southeastern Oklahoma. And then, the same school year, there was a sort-of late snow, about the time I was absolutely sick of the cold, wet, white weather. I remember hearing that there was a song by Prince called "Sometimes It Snows in April," but I'm not sure I actually heard the song or just knew of its existence.
I was having a whole lot of fun going up into the mountains, getting early glimpses of autumn, and then last weekend having a sneak peek at winter. Yesterday was beautiful, and when I drove home from Fort Collins, I got the gorgeous long view of the snowy second ridge that I wanted. (For the record, I pulled the car over on an overpass near Berthoud. I didn't take that picture while driving. I also didn't spend a whole lot of time lining it up. Just snapped and kept driving.)
Today the little aspen trees in front of my house are struggling to turn yellow or orange. It has the same brown rings on the edges of the leaves as before, and I think it must be that there's too much water down there, where the sprinklers leak no matter what we do to fix them. The other trees are turning reds and oranges, and my neighbor to the north is sprinkling giant yellow leaves all over as usual. (I do not want him to rake yet. I wonder whether I can get him to wait.)
I didn't get any good pictures of any of it yet. I might have to wake up early and rush to photograph what I want. It won't last much longer. When I went to the pharmacy, I noticed how strong the wind was, and how tall the wall clouds were over the mountains. Change is coming, and fast. As of now, snow is due to arrive here on Monday, with an overnight low well below freezing. I have more than twenty flowerpots scattered around Park West. If I want any of them to survive, they have to come inside this weekend.
How is it possible that I have already been thoroughly snowed on, and loved it, and yet I'm in a panic now over a totally normal first snow of the year down here in the flats?
No comments:
Post a Comment