On October 26th 2011, we had a large snowfall during the night. It was one of those really wet, early fall snows that took people by surprise. The trees, still covered with beautiful orange leaves paid the prize. School was canceled in many of Colorado’s districts, and we were one of them. So I didn’t have a chance to see the local impact of the storm until the next morning.
As I drove 3 excited boys to Eaton in heavy fog and frigid temperatures, there was not much to see. But when I pulled into town, my mouth dropped. Chubby, long branches had snapped off the well established, old trees along the streets. The fenced in corner of the school yard, where I had picked up my boys for years, was now barricaded by large limbs. Strangely, the fence was still standing straight, with 10-15 ft branches leaning on it. Piles of branches littering the road-sides, the snow still clinging on to them due to the cold temperature. If it wasn’t for the snow, one might think a tornado had just gone through the neighborhoods.
The devastation was astonishing. But amidst all the rubble, there was peace and beauty. Not just the sobering reminders of winter and upcoming holiday joy, but also nature at it’s peak of life. Majestic evergreens swaying ever so little under the weight of wet whiteness. Leaf-trees that had been busy reaching for the sky were now bowing low, touching the ground, as if they were witnessing a royal parade. Some smaller trees were in desperate need of a chiropractic treatment due to a yoga session gone terribly wrong.
The sun’s stubborn rays, relentlessly and slowly burning through the fog, lighting up the grey tree skeletons, making them alive again against the increasingly blue sky. The park was beautiful with it’s newly laid carpet and even though it’s “furniture” was somewhat rearranged, it still beckoned for children to come and play.
Some corn fields still had not been harvested. The brown, dry stalks had put up a good fight, but were no match for the weight of nature’s mighty hand. Most of them had broken in half, but the hardier ones were just bent over. Thought the fog was lifting, the lakes were still steaming with dark grey moisture, like the smoke from a raging forest fire.
Days like these compel me to grab some cross-country skis and an SLR camera. But since I have neither, I made do with my handy little CoolPix and hoped for at least one photo that was National Geographic worthy…
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