Day 6 - 10 September 2008
We took no notice of Button's demanding whine that we haul ourselves out of bed, even if she is the acknowledged leader of our pack as the presumed alpha female. Just too comfortable, lying there. Riley too ignored her presumptuous demands, in his own bliss, deep under the covers. We did, though, hear ample evidence that he heard her, and resented the rude awakening.
He distinctly growled, we heard it deep from the interior confines of the bedclothes. It silenced her for one heartbeat, then she resumed her plaintive appeal, goading us to guilt. Despite she'd already been out, despite she would initially spurn her breakfast, holding out for an additional incentive; say crumbled bacon from our breakfast.
My eyes came slowly, protestingly unglued. Sunny, for certain. And I was mesmerized, watching the fronds of the Sumac outside the bedroom windows form a complex shadow pattern on the white bedroom wall, waving to us, in unison with Button's appeal/demand.
Fascinating how she could so effortlessly alter the cadence and pitch of that deep-throated whine. Loud, shrilly demanding, then muted, softly appealing. In concert, it seemed, with her partner, her brief alliance with that Sumac, much to Riley's disgust.
Intriguing: the bright morning sun throwing the clear shadow-image of the tree's fronds on the wall, the morning breeze shifting the fronds' position on the wall. They danced gracefully, languidly. Then gradually their emphatic shape was diminished in sharpness, eventually disappearing, as the sun was obscured by swiftly-moving clouds.
A counterpoint of skilled synchronicity, the envy of any choreographer, with Button's emphatic, then diminished, finally quiescent concerto of up-and-at-'em.
A very cool morning. Yesterday's rain brought along a cold snap. Fine with us, bit of a relief from the heat earlier in the past week. In fact the day itself would mirror in a sense the morning's awakening performance. Each time the sun's rays were interrupted by clouds, the wind and shade demanded cool-weather attire.
When the sun succeeded in freeing itself, warming the atmosphere, time to shed jackets. A ballet of faltering determination and spontaneity of response.
A dark, wide-winged Raven croaked hoarsely above, cresting the wind as we approached the majestic bulk of mountains at the Franconia Notch. The grey granite mantle of the mountains lofting to the sky, as clear today as they were obscured in heavy mist and fog yesterday. Ying and Yang everywhere, in all things.
The deep, cool green of the forest mounted sentry-like beside the highway, marching up the mountain sides, to the treeline. Self-effacing at the summits, humble in height and girth, beset by the vulnerabilities of climate and weather events.
We followed the Pemigawasset River with its raging stream refreshed by mountain run-off, spuming, spluttering and foaming over its boulder-strewn bed.
A towering hemlock, the patriarch of the hemlock forest beside the trail that led us through to the Pemi-Basins Cascade Trail, held us with its stolid girth. At the Basin the madly-swirling waters continued their inexorable carving-out of the granite bowl, before continuing, its fury undiminished, on its mission to further swell the Pemi.
Hemlock now joined by pines, spruce and birch. Along with Sumac, striped maple, dogwood. Ferns, asters, goldenrod, completed the picture. Blow-downs aplenty, the result of some obviously compelling wind events. We turn from the Pemi trail, slipping off Button's and Riley's leashes from their harness, onto the Basin Cascades trail.
Which abruptly ascends, the trail a misery of hard-trodden wear and weather-and-time-wrought deterioration. The resulting heavy erosion has left deep earthen indentations among the criss-crossing of long-revealed roots, tumbled rocks; all encumbrances to easily heedless ascent.
Side trails invite the hiker to temporarily postpone the ascent for brief, or not-so-brief opportunities to leave the confines of the forest trail for the wide-open welcome of the smoothly immense granite sheath at the mountain side.
From these perches come the breathless vistas of sky above, mountains beyond, forests to either side, and the descending broad rockface below, ascending above, interspersed by boulder-hurtled anomalies, geological features of incomparable beauty and unimaginable scope.
We rest awhile, admire the arras, where the normal plume of a single flume of roiling water has morphed into three, hurtling down the mountain side, replenishing the river below, its flow emphatically increased by yesterday's thunderstorms.
How better to celebrate nature's magnificent manifestations? The immense sky, gigantic mountains, streaming water courses; flora and fauna.
From the slugs revelling in the damp piles of flotsam's detritus, to the occasional warmth-seeking reptile, the soaring denizens of the sky, the evidence of moose imprints on the damp soil, the delicate mountain sorrel, the miniature world of moss and lichen.
A man, a woman, their two dogs. The synergies of nature's unerring, random design.
He distinctly growled, we heard it deep from the interior confines of the bedclothes. It silenced her for one heartbeat, then she resumed her plaintive appeal, goading us to guilt. Despite she'd already been out, despite she would initially spurn her breakfast, holding out for an additional incentive; say crumbled bacon from our breakfast.
My eyes came slowly, protestingly unglued. Sunny, for certain. And I was mesmerized, watching the fronds of the Sumac outside the bedroom windows form a complex shadow pattern on the white bedroom wall, waving to us, in unison with Button's appeal/demand.
Fascinating how she could so effortlessly alter the cadence and pitch of that deep-throated whine. Loud, shrilly demanding, then muted, softly appealing. In concert, it seemed, with her partner, her brief alliance with that Sumac, much to Riley's disgust.
Intriguing: the bright morning sun throwing the clear shadow-image of the tree's fronds on the wall, the morning breeze shifting the fronds' position on the wall. They danced gracefully, languidly. Then gradually their emphatic shape was diminished in sharpness, eventually disappearing, as the sun was obscured by swiftly-moving clouds.
A counterpoint of skilled synchronicity, the envy of any choreographer, with Button's emphatic, then diminished, finally quiescent concerto of up-and-at-'em.
A very cool morning. Yesterday's rain brought along a cold snap. Fine with us, bit of a relief from the heat earlier in the past week. In fact the day itself would mirror in a sense the morning's awakening performance. Each time the sun's rays were interrupted by clouds, the wind and shade demanded cool-weather attire.
When the sun succeeded in freeing itself, warming the atmosphere, time to shed jackets. A ballet of faltering determination and spontaneity of response.
A dark, wide-winged Raven croaked hoarsely above, cresting the wind as we approached the majestic bulk of mountains at the Franconia Notch. The grey granite mantle of the mountains lofting to the sky, as clear today as they were obscured in heavy mist and fog yesterday. Ying and Yang everywhere, in all things.
The deep, cool green of the forest mounted sentry-like beside the highway, marching up the mountain sides, to the treeline. Self-effacing at the summits, humble in height and girth, beset by the vulnerabilities of climate and weather events.
We followed the Pemigawasset River with its raging stream refreshed by mountain run-off, spuming, spluttering and foaming over its boulder-strewn bed.
A towering hemlock, the patriarch of the hemlock forest beside the trail that led us through to the Pemi-Basins Cascade Trail, held us with its stolid girth. At the Basin the madly-swirling waters continued their inexorable carving-out of the granite bowl, before continuing, its fury undiminished, on its mission to further swell the Pemi.
Hemlock now joined by pines, spruce and birch. Along with Sumac, striped maple, dogwood. Ferns, asters, goldenrod, completed the picture. Blow-downs aplenty, the result of some obviously compelling wind events. We turn from the Pemi trail, slipping off Button's and Riley's leashes from their harness, onto the Basin Cascades trail.
Which abruptly ascends, the trail a misery of hard-trodden wear and weather-and-time-wrought deterioration. The resulting heavy erosion has left deep earthen indentations among the criss-crossing of long-revealed roots, tumbled rocks; all encumbrances to easily heedless ascent.
Side trails invite the hiker to temporarily postpone the ascent for brief, or not-so-brief opportunities to leave the confines of the forest trail for the wide-open welcome of the smoothly immense granite sheath at the mountain side.
From these perches come the breathless vistas of sky above, mountains beyond, forests to either side, and the descending broad rockface below, ascending above, interspersed by boulder-hurtled anomalies, geological features of incomparable beauty and unimaginable scope.
We rest awhile, admire the arras, where the normal plume of a single flume of roiling water has morphed into three, hurtling down the mountain side, replenishing the river below, its flow emphatically increased by yesterday's thunderstorms.
How better to celebrate nature's magnificent manifestations? The immense sky, gigantic mountains, streaming water courses; flora and fauna.
From the slugs revelling in the damp piles of flotsam's detritus, to the occasional warmth-seeking reptile, the soaring denizens of the sky, the evidence of moose imprints on the damp soil, the delicate mountain sorrel, the miniature world of moss and lichen.
A man, a woman, their two dogs. The synergies of nature's unerring, random design.
Labels: Peregrinations, Personally Dedicated
posted by Pieface @ 6:51 PM
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