Plenty of Beauty

It has been unusually warm this month, one of the latest falls that I remember.  It is so warm that last Tuesday I disturbed a nest of yellow jackets while raking leaves (fortunately I escaped with only a minor hit on my arm), something I am accustomed to dealing with in July and August while mowing the lawn.  Leaf rakers should be unmolested by yellow jackets, and our seasons should not be mixed together like this.  Even the snakes may still be out, I thought, and so I handled piles of branches carefully.

Visitors who have carefully planned their holidays in Highlands to coincide with the "height" of fall color must also be disappointed.  It normally peaks by now, although there is plenty of beauty if one knows where to look.  These maples next to the Presbyterian Church are always reliably gorgeous, and they hang on until the very last days, too.  The red light at Fifth and Main is barely visible against their bright colors.  I wasn't sure if some of our visitors made it down Main Street that far, in their exercise tights and thigh-high boots, carrying Versace purses and shopping bags.

I walked up on Sunset Rocks today and there was plenty to see there, too; there were many other hikers climbing the familiar path to the top, and they seemed to be enjoying it too, far from the shoppers on Main Street.  It was a beautiful day to be hiking.

On the way to the top, I spotted this very special leaf, which I am 99% certain is that of an American Chestnut.  Local forester Bob Zahner, who passed away many years ago, once hiked up this trail with me to help me identify some unusual species of conifers which I had been labeling as part of a project when I was working for the Town.  On the way, he  pointed this specimen out to me in an off-hand manner, much to my astonishment.  I had mistakenly thought the American Chestnut was extinct as a result of the blight that stuck in the early 20th century, one of the great tragedies of forestry.

But in fact there are millions of sprouts that can be found throughout this area, which still produce trees that can grow to eight or ten feet before taken down. The blight kills the above-ground portion of the trees, but the root system can survive and form new sprouts for years and years.

I never seem to be able to find this small surviving tree except at this time of year; perhaps it is hidden among the rest of the foliage. 

The summit is always worth the climb.  There was our little Town, nestled in the valley below, serene and quiet from this height, far above the bustling streets, the thriving shops and hotels and restaurants.  It's a different world up here.

There is always something beautiful to see!  On my way back down the trail, I was stopped in my tracks by this simple fern, waving gently from side to side.

But I also saw this sobering sight:  the tall, dead trunks of hemlock trees, killed many years ago by the hemlock woolly adelgid, a tiny insect that has killed most of this species in our area.  They are just waiting to fall.  And, unlike the American Chestnut, they will never come back again.

I stopped at the library on my way down, and a man was sitting in one of the rocking chairs out front reading a book on this fall day.  Other than hiking up a mountain, I could think of no better way to occupy the time.

And on my way back to the car, I stopped to take this photo of the old steeple of the Episcopal Church of the Incarnation, framed by blood-red leaves.  There's plenty of beauty if one knows where to look.