OK, I’m here in Wyoming, where the fall color, right at this moment, is transcendently beautiful in the mountains. The aspens provide the only big fireworks, though, in yellows, oranges, pinks, and reds that literally glow in the dark. It’s the contrast with the dark pines, along with the subtle contributions from the wild roses and chokecherries, that really make the show. We went camping last night and here is what we saw. What’s the show like in other areas of Chiffville?
(if the pictures don’t post, they’re here. It seems the chiffboard and blogspot are incompatible for some reason–anybody know how to fix it?)
There’s supposed to be some old Indian story about a young girl and boy who were in love, but separated by family and tribal politics. The usual tale of star-crossed lovers blah-blah-blah. They meet once again just before death, an old man and old woman, and declare their undying love for each other, and rue their lives spent apart from each other, the man turning into the flower golden rod and the woman into the wild aster.
I think the Indian version refers to the darker purple version of aster, though. We’ve lots of both varieties growing around here.
Anyway to get around it?
