Fall Equinox

I sensed the changing intensity of the sun's rays as we set off on our trail run yesterday. Not only from the double rainbow in the west, but I was able to run comfortably in the late morning. It was as if five pounds were lifted off me. The sun wasn't hot. I even carried a rain jacket and wore a pumpkin-color long sleeve tee-shirt. Orange, or any derivative of that color, is my favorite autumn shade to wear. Seasons do dictate what I wear, when I'm active, where I go and even the food I consume.
Tis the season to eat and eat and eat..vegetables. Our prolific garden has yielded peppers, tomatoes, squash, potatoes, and of course, pumpkins. Chop, peel, cook, freeze are my dominating activities lately. I appreciate the abundance, but not all at once.
It was the SUDDENNESS or impatience that surprised me during this fall equinox day. There were early clues: Aspen trees on Boulder Mountain freckled with gold, sunrises and sunsets arrived later and sooner, the flies disappeared, I shut my bedroom window at night. Autumn in the desert wants to be noticed.

Skywatching

Its been an interesting summer for sky-watching: Lunar eclipice, meteor showers, finding the north star, seeking Uranus moons.
I had a perfect position to view the Perseids meteor shower. We camped on a peak with a 240 degree view of the sky high above tree line to watch the show. My portable chaise lounge supported me along with a minus 15 degree sleeping bag to see the spectacle in the wee hours before sunrise. I counted 53 falling stars. The streaks came from all directions and time intervals. After each falling star I'd make a wish: peace in the middle east, I'd lose five pounds effortlessly, our front road be paved, see more falling stars... Fifty-three was a good number to crawl back into the tent on.
I regret not taking a photo of the Lunar eclipse. The moon looked like an old picture of red Mars. Eerie. Being awake in the dead of night is spooky too. Coyote howls seemed to be only ten feet away. Bushes rattled as if creatures were convening on how to attack me. Paranoid thoughts ruled during the slow, shadow moon show.
Lately I've been using the binoculars to locate Uranus moons in the southeast sky in the early dark evening. Clouds or my forgetfulness has prevented my newest discovery in the heavens.
The persistent north star or Polaris, has been chased by the Big and Little Dipper for centuries. I've only recently noticed there are other worlds to unearth out in the dark skies.

Up or Down?

Lightening sparked our debate as to where to backpack last week. Canyons or the mountains? We could wear our shorts through the night in the desert canyons. Recent rains would have filled water-pockets for all our water needs. Cottonwood trees are in full-leaf and would shade us. Those pesky fears of flash-floods made us look upward toward the high mountains. Water is plentiful in the alpine lakes and streams. The nights are cold enough to zap the blood-sucking critters. It would be a relief to be chilled after the desert heat. Then I thought of the time my hair stood up during a close thunder and lightening storm in the high mountains. No place to hide except under a tall, scorched dead Ponderosa tree.
We compromised and backpacked on the head of a narrow canyon. We hiked across slickrock a couple of miles and erected our tent on a sand island under a pinion pine tree. We heard and watched thunderclouds burst all around us. South, Lake Powell was was having its own electric light parade. The city of Escalante was shrouded in gray sheets of rain, hidden in it's own drama. Big anvil clouds swallowed up the Henry Mountains. We toasted to our clear donut hole sky and watched a rainbow travel through time.