Autumn Mists
and Hidden Valleys
There is nothing like the mists of Autumn, in the
Appalachians, especially up in the Potomac Highlands of West Virginia. There you can watch the cold damp mist roll
in over the mountains, wiping out the high peaks in her white cloak so that the
views become blunted. Even the valleys
below take on a Monet-ish tone as they become muted in the dimmed light of the
dank and damp day.
The ribbon of asphalt that occasionally crisscrosses these
majestic tree covered mounds of rock and clay winds you through deep valleys,
and creases between the hills. Often you
find yourself driving along a ledge of rock, teetering above a sheer abyss,
praying that a log truck won’t be hurling itself at you around the next blind
corner. You are torn between watching
the ever-winding road and craning your neck to see the wonders spread out
around you --- just wishing that there was someplace to pull off so you could
get out and stand and look. Suddenly, at
the next sharp curve up the mountain, there is break in the the mist and the
splendor of the sun bursts upon the scene.
The very tops of the mountains float like islands on the sea of clouds,
with a brilliant blue sky above.
It is here that the first fingers of Autumn show their glory
as the leaves have already started to turn the bright colorful hues that bring
flocks of visitors to the area year after year.
Evident already are shades of yellow, red, orange, gold, and deep
maroon. The wild apples have ripened and
the golden and bright red orbs hang from the trees. There are piles of over ripened fruit
scattered below the trees waiting for the local wild life to feast upon. The bushes are covered in bright berries for
the picking and between the trees and in the meadows you can still see the full
racked buck or doe with her fawn feeding upon the wild grain in the fields.
Every day the color increases in its intensity and breadth
of luminosity. Progressively, the
mornings bring a sharper bite to the air.
With the coming days the V’s of the passing flocks will pass overhead as
the great Canadian Geese migrate south and the meadows slowly empty of the
summer’s local fowl as they join the migration to warmer climates. Soon all that is left is the empty feeders,
hanging with the remnants of summer’s seed.
The flowers of the garden hang on, the last tenuous blossoms continuing
to bloom—fewer and smaller, but still determined to feel the kiss of the sun.
There are also days that the mists of Autumn flee the
highlands and valleys. The sun comes out
in her majesty and sprays her own special sparkle to the colors of the
mountains. With the dropping evening
temperatures, the trees continue change in color and grow bolder in hue, the
mountains burst into flame and the glow with the sunsets, setting the world on
fire. Even grandma’s best patchwork
quilts cannot hold up their heads next to the glory and color of these
magnificent hills.
Words may try to paint a picture. A Camera may try to capture a moment, but
only a trip to this enchanting land during the ripening days of fall can allow
to bask in the glory of what it is to experience the Autumn Mists and Hidden
Valleys in the Appalachians.
Wow Karen I remember you sharing some pics about autumn in WV but this post says it all and it makes me want to visit especially this time of year. What an eloquent post.
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Thank you, Deb. I will admit to being really home sick right now. We lived in the high peaks of NM and the Rockies for over 30 years, but I don't miss them as much as I do those four or five years we lived in WV.
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