MY PERSPECTIVE CHANGES all the time on this mountain, weather and the season permeating every thought and impacting nearly every decision. Perhaps this is because conditions change so rapidly. In a moment, a beautiful, clear sunrise can be overcome by opaque, dense fog. A storm can form so fierce thunder and wind rattle the doors and windows in a terrifying chorus and then—just like that, poof—the sky clears and the air is left crisp and fresh and somehow, rejoicing. You feel a part of it all up here, perhaps because at this elevation we have a view so unobstructed as to allow clear sight for miles and miles and miles. To the east, to the south, to the west.
Weather changes, seasons change, and we’re a party to it all.
But there is also this. Time passes on this mountain and every moment feels born of magic. A wink, a nod, a grin that offers Hey. Watch this.
This is never more true than in May and June, when the ground releases a glorious array of shoots and stems and leaves that grow and stretch and bloom in every shape, size and color. It’s a show that’s new every day and that continues even as we march across summer—short though the season may be. For all too soon we are headed into fall, steeped in gold and deep orange, the world here turning rich and warm, then fading.
For now, though, the earth is new and filled with more possibility than a mortal mind could dream.
Stella knows it, too.
She sees it. She hears it in the song of the birds, feels it as the squirrels and chipmunks scurry about, offering their own joyful marking of this beautiful, fleeting season.