A Vivid Yellow Sea
Flowing down slopes, cresting over hilltops, breaking against outcrops of prickly cactus, lapping against trees irregularly spaced like islands awash in a placid sea. Vivid flowers bob in the breeze, as airy as sea foam and ready to take flight with the puff of a stronger wind. Rabbits at play in the waves scurry into and out of the high grasses, secure from watchful eyes in the sky. Patches of purple phosphorescently vivid, and a telling of orange, each caught in the flow, swept along inexorably yet not overwhelmed, holding their own, a part and a place in a patchwork quilt. Not the categories and segregations, not the us and them of human constructions forgetful of natures example.
Swells undulate and we skim along the surface only now and then catching the spray when our downward course cuts close into the flow. Perched on the edge of one swell, and the moment before it continues past, the next rises in the near distance rushing forward but never filling the valley between, its vertical face a stain of flotsam. A few times we stop to wade out, enveloped, testing the depths, mindful, apprehensive of being swept over and beyond the worlds edge unseen beneath the covering sea. Ducking down, immersed and covered, our eyes spot islands rising in the distance seeming to float deceptively, certain their snow covering must be a mirage, as fleeting as the ocean of yellow that sweeps over the hills during this short period of the year.
Hope you like yellow:
still down along Puddingstone. I almost feel like I should
carry a saw to make a few cuts each time I pass
some old fenceline
cistus at the top of the switchbacks
edge of the world
purple flotsam atop Beverest
not sure why the deep trench, but a left turn just ahead is aways the first to flood, and last to drain. From what I saw it is the only place left in the park where you can't avoid the mud