|Looking back at the gathering clouds|
My friend Anne had warned me plenty of times in the past to be off the mountain by mid afternoon. This was just lunch time. Time now to ramp up the walking speed. But of course there were the calls of still beckoning plants.The wet meadow where we slogged was filled with caltha and ranunculus. What a time! Boreas, ever with us, provided the cool breeze to wick away any heat we generated going upward ever faster. The mountain opened to us a look into the private lives of some of the most fascinating of alpine plants. Truly this was a home for gods... and we were not. Thoughts of wrathful thunderbolts drove us to increase speed.
|Caltha leptosepala, Ranunculus sp and buds|
As we continued along this moist meadow, the ever-so-sweet and diminutive Saxifraga rhomboidea rose among the salix. Did I mention the ground was wet with a cold that the plants obviously enjoyed. It is impossible for me to imagine the inhabitants of that railroad town a hundred years prior, much less those miners, who lived here in quite primitive conditions.We came in the height of summer. What must winter have been like for them with Boreas?
|Trollius laxus with caltha|