See those long pointed leaves, growing in little clumps? That’s right, they’re all over scattered throughout the lupines, locoweeds, larkspur…one of those purple “l” flowers. Now see that one over there with the stem taller than you? With all the little white flowers? That’s the century flower in its last gasps of life. They live for 75-100 years before flowering in full glory. Then they die. That’s right, see all those tall brown sticks, cracked and bent? That’s last year’s crop, this glorious specimen’s future.
After a long gasping climb, it’s easy to feel as if these beautiful blooming flowers are just for me. The chemicals coursing through my body enhance the beauty of the vista and these singular blooms. I know they bloom careless to my life, my climb, my concerns. But maybe that’s why they make me feel special. They are for me in their negligence of me. It’s a gasping beauty that doesn’t give a damn. It doesn’t care about my straining muscles, my beating heart. My brake-clutching descent and mud-slipping crash will not change anything out here, save wearing away the soil my tires and my bleeding leg pick up and take home.
Monday, July 11, 2011
Crested Butte downtown to Strand Hill to Strand Hill Bonus and back to town.
With Chuck R.