Splitting Apart in Fall
Seasonal Wisdom on Ending and Preparation
In the shadows at the Paonia River Park, it is still cold as I walk toward the sunny places that are already warm. Here there is still a hint of the summer, which is really now a memory as the last of the festivals are almost here, after which everything shuts down fast. The ditches are off but the North Fork River runs - a little higher now that irrigation is done.
In the quiet places thin sheens of clear ice. Ephemeral, with patterns and shapes that evoke ideas but are ready to disappear as soon as the sun arrives. Now it is filtering through the last of the golden leaves, which still hang on some cottonwoods.
Sometimes I think I can feel it, boundaries softening in fall. I already live on the margin between worlds. Here the Southern Rockies meet the Colorado Plateau, a high valley at the edge of mountains, at the edge of habitability - irrigated, maintained, vibrant.
Bears show up in the valley now. The apples are ready. Last year a small black bear, I think a young female, maybe in her first season away from mom, found my apple tree that I had not yet gotten around to picking, but that had a decent crop.
Looking out my kitchen window I saw the tree shaking hard. More than a bird, even a crow, so I was confused for a moment. Until the bruin poked its head around the corner. It shook the tree then ate the apples off the ground, which was quite efficient. Then it climbed into a willow, took a four hour nap, and climbed down at dusk. It ate a few more apples, then went on its way.
It isn’t just the bears thinking about denning down. People are putting up the last of their crops, after the freeze - which usually puts a pretty hard stop to the growing season here. It is easy to see the activity shift toward preparation. Pickups hauling firewood become ubiquitous.
