|Beaver Brook, Colorado|
Last week meteorologists issued a severe weather warning for Jefferson County. They projected a winter storm for us and asserted that it would progress in the usual, predictable pattern.
That afternoon, a faint wind whispered through the treetops foretelling a frosty future. By morning, a spiraling system from the east had screamed into the Front Range foothills.
Basking in mild temperatures, the mountain landscape dissolved into an opaque atmosphere of wet flakes. Still pretty in gray, the pine trees were coated with a glossy sheen of sparkling silver.
The next day was much colder as pellets of fine powder were drizzled over the entire area. Rocky crags were capped with heavy snow and the evergreens were plastered in solid ice.
It was utterly bone-chilling, hiking out in the open meadow. Luckily, we discovered that once inside the insulated forest, there was a natural, geothermal warmth.
By day three, the storm had passed and clouds cleared but a blast of arctic air swept in. Below blue skies, plowing through Beaver Brook was like walking into the North Pole.
Down at the frozen reservoir, long shadows stretched across the lake’s smooth surface. The surrounding trees resembled an exhibit of exquisitely carved marble sculptures.
Painted with pure white, the transcendent beauty of that lonesome wilderness was absolutely pristine. With so many storms already on canvas this year, I have a feeling it’s going to be a winter to remember.
|Winter storm in the foothills|
|The mountain landscape dissolved|
|Pretty in gray|
|The pine trees were a sparkling silver|
|Fine powder was drizzled over the entire area|
|Rocky crags were snow-capped|
|The open meadow was bone-chilling|
|The forest was insulated with warmth|
|The storm had passed|
|Walking into the North Pole|
|The trees were like marble sculptures|
|Transcendent beauty of a lonesome wilderness|