Chickadees may speak their names among the low branches. Nuthatches yank. Trees overhead occasionally roar in the wind, but then are quiet again. An old oak aches as the breeze twists it.
An occasional car pulls into the plowed parking lot in the Upper Park.Hikers hidden under hoods and gloves head for the Rim Trail. They stride between their trekking poles on the lumpy, undulating snow to gasp at Lucifer Falls in its ice tomb. No roar of the waterfall today; just a slight swishing of water struggling beneath the ice.
Late February Is looking down its nose at March. Daylight savings time starts in two weeks. That’s supposed to mean spring, right?
Yet, sometimes the heaviest snows come in March.
Summer, with its green leaves, with children splashing in the water, with smoke from the campfires, all still seem like a scene in some far off tropical land.
An occasional car pulls into the plowed parking lot in the Upper Park.Hikers hidden under hoods and gloves head for the Rim Trail. They stride between their trekking poles on the lumpy, undulating snow to gasp at Lucifer Falls in its ice tomb. No roar of the waterfall today; just a slight swishing of water struggling beneath the ice.
Late February Is looking down its nose at March. Daylight savings time starts in two weeks. That’s supposed to mean spring, right?
Yet, sometimes the heaviest snows come in March.
Summer, with its green leaves, with children splashing in the water, with smoke from the campfires, all still seem like a scene in some far off tropical land.
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