Summer Singletrack

The mountains are opening up.  The grass is tall and green and lush.  The trees are heavy with damp leaves, the run-off flowing freely filling streams and rivers and lakes.  The flowers are yawning toward the light.   It is early summer.  The explosion of life that follows the long and dormant winter is inspiring, but brief.  For it won’t be long until the heat of the brutal summer creeps from the valley floors and into the canyons and shade of the high country.  The leaves will dry slightly, the colors will fade and the run-off will slow to a trickle.

But not yet.

It is as if the earth itself is stretching, rubbing the sleep from its eyes after an extended hibernation.  And soon enough that high country will surrender its snow pack and offer up the great and wonderful bounty that lies hidden beneath its depths.

Singletrack.