In one October my thoughts wandered to the road into Silver Lake. My mind was definitely there. The Sierra Nevada Mountain Range from Mammoth Lakes to Bridgeport have a magnetism that have a way of becoming a part of you, causing you yearn and pine for the solace of this wilderness when you are far away from it’s beauty.
So familiar is this special place around Silver Lake, I can see every twist and turn of the road. The twenty mile-per-hour sign just before you reach the horseshoe turn between June Lake and Silver Lake.
There are the pine trees standing on guard on each side of the roadway. It seems these towering giants are saluting each person who passes through as if in a warm welcome.
Behind the sentry of trees are the granite mountains with an intricate network of crags and cliffs. The peaks shoot straight for heaven! And these monarchs, being monarchs, defy any mortal to try and scale them. In late Spring and early Summer the mountains provide a special treat - multiple waterfalls gushing down over the rocky sides with grace and beauty.
As I reflect, I feel the warmth of the late August sun caressing my back. It warms my entire being. The breeze soft as a whisper refreshes my spirit. The breeze is like a playful child tickling the leaves of the white bark birch; or like a lady in love, humming a sweet song to herself as she dances through the small grove of pines.
At this time of year - Mid Fall - I wonder how my woodland looks. I have never been here at this time of the year. Is there a light dusting of snow on the ground; maybe lacing the boughs of the evergreens? Do the birch now bare of leaves make an artful silhouette against the icy blue of a soon-to-be wintry sky? Perhaps the leaves are still fluttering with each breeze, creating a kaleidoscope of crimson, gold, amber, and brown.
Are the trout leaping from the center of the lake laughing that they were too clever to get caught this year? Do they brag about how much bait they stole off the hooks of Summer’s fishing folks?
The dusty forked path narrowing as it wanders in branches past the lake and into the woodland around the lake, who travels it’s serene pathways or is it deserted? Does it lie in lonely wait for Spring and the bustle of human feet to step upon it? Are the shy mule deer with their soft mushroom brown coat the only feet treading its rocky course? - The mule deer such nervous little babes.
Where are my favorite little companions, the curious chipmunk and playful squirrel? Have they settled down in a cozy home in a birch or pine ready to sleep away the approach of winter like a newborn baby?
How I love the many bird friends, where are they? Surely they have moved to a Southern home? The mallards preferring to set-up residency for the summer in the rushes and marshes, surely they have departed for a warmer home. And what about the snowy white Lake Tern with its sharp eyes and graceful body? Does it leave for warmer accommodations? Does the lakeside thicket rest in solitude, hushed from the Downey Woodpecker’s persistent rat-a-tat-tat? Has this noisy black-and-white feathered companion sought the warmth of a southern home?
In my mind I try to visualize what is this peaceful place is like: Is my woodland as enchanting as it is in summer? Or has it taken on a haunting and foreboding atmosphere, becoming an eerie and forbidden woods?
This was a nice article. We think we would like to investigate these woods on our next trip to CA. Maybe from you article we will try to make early summer, to see those waterfalls.