Yellow

Yellow was the first color I noticed on the Mill Creek Trail.  I meandered uphill at a moderate pace behind the man and the dog, trying to etch the tree colors into my memory.  By next weekend, a good wind could bring all the yellow down.  We'll be on to the new color, then no color at all.  I'm predicting rain, long winter rain.  For now, since there has been no summer, no walking in the wilderness until the smoke cleared, every step is more precious than the last.  I'm just glad it's all still here.

That's something.  Yesterday, we took the long walk up to Whiskeytown Falls.  Water and the cool rush of wind brought the sense of a new ecosystem.  In the valley of that mountain, carved by the water itself, there are dogwood trees.  On our way to the trailhead, we quickly drove through the damage on Benson Drive.  Rock Creek from Highway 299 was deceptively regular, even after we crossed the bridge.  Soon patches of brown appeared, where I guessed spot fires had taken the vegetation.  We turned around after the first glances up the dirt part of Benson.  Like the day I toured Dutch Creek Road in Trinity County, the dance of fire tourism led to depression.  Once we were on the trail up to the falls, though, the magic of the forest had returned, what was salvaged, the way in.  I savored every step, every crunch, every uphill breath.  Doing it just to do it.  I could feel muscles that had been forgotten.  It was good. 

No other exercise invigorates me quite this way.  I come to the base of the trail and feel the slight challenge of the uphill climb against my thoughts and obsessions.  My heart becomes what I listen for.  I also watch for bear, the tranformation of bear inside and out.  Last week, I sighted a weasel, though I had never seen a weasel before.  Tonight it was a gray fox, lingering in the road.  I come for the wild moments, for the letting go.  I know the weekly hikes have kept me sane.  Every step up every trail since the fires has seemed like the last hike before winter.  Friends who never spoke of death before are writing about it.  I am leaning in.  Here at the upgrade, meeting what is.