Lamoille on a Rainy Day

 

 

It was raining by the time I got up to the back parking lot in the canyon. There were a few minutes when I sat; noticing the patter on my windshield and that the temperature was 58F. Up at the pass it could be snowing in this weather. I thought of heading back to town. I thought of sitting until the rain stopped. Finally, I put on my rain jacket, a bright green that quite happily makes me look like a frog. It is thin and keeps me dry and warm. I got myself to hiking. After 15 minutes the rain let up, with occasionally drips and drops. The wet changed the canyon. Today, for a little while, it was a place I didn’t know. On a normal day the dryness of the high desert suppresses scent, but today the fragrances of all the different wildflowers lifted, humidity making a rich, tropical tapestry. The smell of rocks, ground down by snow every year added the scent of a workman’s shop in the mountains; and then the pine trees, the wet sage brush...  It is the smell of land and sky.

 

 

Each turn up the hill is new, the wet vista transforming place and time. I see that someone has freshly carved their name in gigantic letters in the pine tree, and I’m sad for the tree. I see it’s sap slowly trying to ooze out to cover it’s hurt. I apologized to the tree.

I see people I know (this is Elko, after all).  My mind at first pours through my troubles, frustrations at work, or what not, then excitement for coming trips and plans… and then it stops. I see the rain drip from the pine trees, the willows and the flowers. All colors are vibrant from the rain. I walk as far as I can, not quite to Favre Lake, not yet.  Today I saw that all the tools I need are within me.