“Climb the mountains and get their good tidings. Nature’s peace will flow into you as sunshine flows into trees. The winds will blow their own freshness into you, and the storms their energy, while cares will drop away from you like the leaves of Autumn.”
~ John Muir, The Mountains of California
Going to the mountains is going home. John Muir had it right. He knew the fresh air spiced with pine that blew at the peaks of the mountain and down into the corridors of sparkling packed snow, lined on either side with dark green spruce trees. He knew the vastness of the wide bright blue sky, of feeling so close as to touch the very clouds that blanketed the tallest of the heights. The gold and yellow streaks of light that stained the snow-capped bowls and paint the valley in brilliant pink and purple hues as the sun set between two sharp peaks. The never-ending azure-green-white watercolor of the mountains in the distance, summit upon summit as far as the eye can see. He knew the sunsets smeared with too much colour, the nearly neon rosy orange light that streaked across the darkening sky, that settled unhurriedly above the indigo outline of the mountains in the distance.
I’m dreaming of the Rocky Mountains. Of ski season. And before that? Of the first changing leaves of fall. Creamy white-streaked-dark-chocolate bark on aspen trees, leaves the golden treasures of the season. Ruby reds and auburn sprays of colour, framed against that blue-white sky and gilded in the earlier setting sun. I wouldn’t say no to a million dollars any day, but I might give it all away for a view like this. It isn’t called the Million Dollar Highway for no reason. Time – slower, laughter – softer. Those mountains will steal your heart and never let it go – you’d be okay with that too. After all, your heart, with all its hopes and dreams, is pretty priceless, I think.
To keep dreaming just a little longer: