Sagebrush, Artemisia tridentata, evocatively redolent in the afternoon sun
Pennyroyal, likely aptly named Monardella odoratissima, could still smell it when crushed, always conjures potent feels, of ancient and feral medicine
the lupine is even still green
Bear tracks, a small one, mine too on peak. Bet they know where the easier walking is, how to time the snow conditions for ease of travel, by eye, by smell, by grunt, as expressions of this place. Figured I was in the right spot.
volcanic ash flow or lahar, with neighborhood rocks it picked up along the way
Flowing moments of blissful jamming like this are when I’m most a part of this exquisite unfolding that is Life; stone, snow, flesh, briefly moving in sync, if only in passing, participating in that same age-old rising up and rushing down. We’re born to it, evolved to love it.
Whitebark Pine, Pinus albicaulis, the longest lived of our great Sierra Pines, second only to Junipers for longevity (and maybe clonal Aspens?), are now considered an endangered species due to invasive blister rust fungus and climate change as their subalpine mountain top home shrinks. The tufts of orange dead needles could well be the ‘flagging’ which characterizes the onset of a blister rust infection. I’m sorry brother
Whitebark Pine, Pinus albicaulis, play by different rules, growing up, growing down, wherever they can, flowing like wax, pooling and thickening where the wind has beaten back advances, abandoning errant branches to live in the lee of its own deadwood, eventually looking all scrappy and haggard, as if at death’s door for centuries.
volcanic ash flow, with neighborhood rocks it picked up along the way
Thawed breakable mank freshies are still freshies! in October anyway.
