Ash Wednesday
“It was one of those March days when the sun shines hot and the wind blows cold: when it is summer in the light, and winter in the shade.”
70 degrees and hardly a breath of wind, traipsing optimistically in shorts and t-shirts over the last stubborn patches of snow from last week’s freeze. Today is Ash Wednesday: along the prairie pathways of Superior, the hills and grass are charred, the yucca is scarred and haggard, the pines here and there are yellowed, their trunks blackened but alive. The scent of ash pours over anyone downwind. So let’s stay upwind this evening, shall we?
Ten days until daylight savings time. The sun has set behind the mountains, at least from the vantage point of South Boulder Creek West. The shade is chilly and brisk.
S crossed three fence lines and passed through two stands of trees. Along the way, joggers, dogs, and someone trundling up the trail with her phone and her dog, but mostly her phone. The dog seemed to notice, with some enthusiasm, that it was outdoors.
After a while the sky darkened and the clouds lit up for golden hour. The shade turned gold and the clouds blushed pink. S reached the terminus.
Back to the trailhead by dusk, the parking lot dark and empty, dogs and people and phones all safely back home in their charging stands.
