Saturday, April 19, 2025

North Island spring

It was a beautiful day. I got out early and drove north and north and north, seeing the bright spring colours; all those green glowing lights on the winter's bare branches. The pink catkins of the alders have been eclipsed by the shiny neon-green leaves; the maples have hung out their yellow-flowered racemes; new elderberry and salmonberry leaves brighten the edge of the forest. Snowy mountain peaks play peek-a-boo behind the lower hills, seeming to advance and retreat as the road winds, following the rivers in the valleys.

Down a gravel road, off the main highway, at every turn several robins fly off into the bush to wait until I'm out of sight again.  A squirrel dashes across the road; something chitters at me when I roll down the windows. Where the road ends, in Zeballos, the robins are joined by swallows and crows, maybe a raven.

I turn and head home again, stopping here and there to look at rocks or chase butterflies. Or to balance over a steep bank to look at green, roaring water.

Gravel road. The peaks are in the Haihte range.

Heading west.

Warm day, with ice.

End of the road. Looking back at Zeballos town from the pier.

Really the end of the road. Rock underwater, from the pier.

Double falls, near Fault Creek bridge.

Long view just above the falls, where blue water turns green.

Just a creek, any creek. The road runs alongside.

Next: I stop to look at rocks.

A Skywatch post.
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Era un dia hermosa. Salí del pueblo en la mañana y me dirigí al norte, más al norte, siempre hacia el norte, mirando los colores vibrantes de la primavera; todas esas lucecitas verdes, resplandescientes sobre las ramas desnudas del invierno. Las candelillas color de rosa de los alisos han dado lugar a las nuevas hojas, verdes neón; de las ramas de los arces cuelgan rácimos de flores amarillas; nuevas hojas de  saúco rojo y salmonberry alegran los bordes del bosque. Cumbres de montañas nevadas juegan a "ahora me ves, ahora no" tras los cerros más bajos, parecen avanzar y retroceder con las curvas del camino, siguiendo los rios a sus pies.

Saliendo de la carretera principal, siguiendo un camino de grava, en cada vuelta varios petirrojos se levantan y van a esconderse entre los arbustos. Una ardilla corre, cruzando mi camino; algo en el bosque está haciendo comentarios cuando bajo la ventana. Donde termina la ruta, en Zeballos, golondrinas y cuervos vuelan, mirando desde arriba a los petirrojos picando la tierra en busca de lombrices.

Finalmente, doy la vuelta y tomo el camino a casa, pero deteniéndome frecuentemente para observar unas rocas o tratar de sacar fotos de mariposas. O para balancearme encima de una roca para mirar aguas verdes, violentas, allá abajo.

  1. Camino de grava. Las montañas pertenecen al grupo Haihte.
  2. Dirigiéndome hacia el oeste.
  3. Un dia caluroso, pero con vistas de hielo.
  4. Donde termina la ruta, en el muelle de Zeballos. Miro hacia atrás, hacia el pueblo.
  5. De veras el final del camino. Una roca debajo del muelle.
  6. Una catarata doble. Cerca del puente Fault Creek.
  7. Extendiéndo la vista más allá del puente, donde el agua azul se torna verde.
  8. Un riachuelo cualquiera. El camino se ve a la izquierda.
Mañana; me detengo para mirar unas rocas.

Un post de Skywatch.

2 comments:

  1. What a breathtaking journey—your words paint the landscape as vividly as any photo could. I could feel the quiet joy of winding roads, sudden glimpses of snow-capped peaks, and the soft green awakening of the forest. The detail—the robins, the rushing water, the glowing leaves—makes it all so alive. This post is a beautiful meditation on spring’s quiet grandeur. Thank you for bringing us along.

    ReplyDelete

I'm having to moderate all comments because Blogger seems to have a problem notifying me. Sorry about that. I will review them several times daily, though, until this issue is fixed.

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