August 29, 2016
“And the seasons they go round and round
And the painted ponies go up and down
We’re captive on the carousel of time…”
–Circle Game by Joni Mitchell
After several weeks of chilly rain and humidity temperatures went back in the 70s (20s C). And yet signs of fall can be seen on the Kaibab Plateau. Mushrooms pop and aspen turn.
Monday morning while waiting for a group of NAU students for a guided hike on the Widforss trail I wandered the edges of the parking lot and mushrooms were everywhere and in every color. White, cream, orange, browns, and reds. Golf ball sized white puffballs. Brilliant red amanitas. Tiny little burnt orange caps on a spindly stalk. Yet I saw no oysters or shaggy manes to sauté for dinner. One of the professors found a couple of edible King Boletus at least as big around as a desert plate, a rusty orange almost wavy top. After I informed him grazing was allowed in national parks he harvested them to add to the class’ spaghetti dinner.
Little birds skittered about in the aspen branches rather difficult to photograph like this Black-Throated Gray Warbler. Some bright yellow flowers persisted. Dew sparkled on the grasses. Some flower heads almost completely blown out. Seems like only yesterday I saw the large blooms instead of seed heads.
Along the first rise of the trail I asked the students to walk slowly, quietly, using all their senses, practice forest bathing. I felt fall, the air crisp, saw one or two yellow aspen leaves on the trail, but the trees above us still held an only slightly off green. We walked about a mile making a few stops along the way where I talked about the Ponderosa Pine, Kaibab squirrel, and pointed out some plants. Then stopped with a view of the canyon and talked about geology. From there they walked on down the trail and I returned to the trail head. Took off early and packed for my now two and a half day weekend to shop in the heat of St. George, Utah.
Flowers still bloom alongside the road in yellows and purples. Some of the aspen wear a golden bronze, cheap and dirty, instead of the bright yellows that usually appear in September. Mullen stands tall, stalks still green and fluffing out with tiny yellow flowers lining the stem. Last year’s Mullen towers above with brown stalks looking almost like cattails.
Regeneration of aspen in the 2006 Warm Fire thick like hair on a dog. It’s an interesting topography with 6-15 foot (1.6-2.5 m) aspen surrounding snags of 50-60+ feet (15-25+ m). Some of the old burnt snags are sculptural like totem poles, and sometimes the twisted tops look like a bird but are usually not although I did see one today. Fire’s art.
Fluffy clouds hung high above the Vermilion cliffs leaving shadows on the land while the mid-day sun washed out the usually brilliant colors. Clusters of smiling sunflowers scattered along the road as I dropped through the Juniper/Pinyon woodlands. A rock squirrel skittered into the grass.
As I drove off the Kaibab Plateau towards Kanab I couldn’t get Joni’s song out of my head. Am I the painted pony going up and down on this carousel called life? It’s a contrast of seasons as fall approaches high elevation. Yet down in Kanab, in the high 80s (30 C) and St George 100+ (~40 C).
90F (32 C) at 5000 feet (1524 m) and AC on as I hit the long stretch past White Sage. A roadrunner raced across the road, appropriately named.
And once again I heard in my head: “…as the seasons they go round and round.”
Circle Game by Joni Mitchell
Yesterday a child came out to wonder
Caught a dragonfly inside a jar
Fearful when the sky was full of thunder
And tearful at the falling of a star
Then the child moved ten times round the seasons
Skated over ten clear frozen streams
Words like when you’re older must appease him
And promises of someday make his dreams
And the seasons they go round and round
And the painted ponies go up and down
We’re captive on the carousel of time
We can’t return we can only look
Behind from where we came
And go round and round and round
In the circle game
Sixteen springs and sixteen summers gone now
Cartwheels turn to car wheels thru the town
And they tell him take your time it won’t be long now
Till you drag your feet to slow the circles down
And the seasons they go round and round
And the painted ponies go up and down
We’re captive on the carousel of time
We can’t return we can only look
Behind from where we came
And go round and round and round
In the circle game
So the years spin by and now the boy is twenty
Though his dreams have lost some grandeur coming true
There’ll be new dreams maybe better dreams and plenty
Before the last revolving year is through
And the seasons they go round and round
And the painted ponies go up and down
We’re captive on the carousel of time
We can’t return we can only look
Behind from where we came
And go round and round and round
In the circle game
