25 July 2008

hello friday :: a wrap up

One quick mention of my weekend-gone-crazy and then I won't speak of it again. If one is to have an allergic reaction to medication, it's best to have it while under the twenty-four-hour care of ever-vigilant nurses and doctors. Apparently my body is discerning enough to want the real "McCoy" instead of a synthetic product. What can I say? I'm a delicate flower. Day six: I am up, walking vertical (for the most part), and not needing medication (which is a good thing because I am looking at my knitting over the past few days and I have to say that frogging is in order... I have a mess, much like the effects of spiders given drugs).

A couple weeks ago, my mom, a cousin, and I took a road trip to say our last good-byes to four close family members, and fresh hellos to other members not seen in recent years. There were rough, emotional moments but we three made a good musketeer troop, managing to spin goofiness into our time together.

This splendid mountain range was in my backyard growing up. It is aptly named the Ruby Mountains, after the garnets found there. Don't let my picture at such a distance fool you about their size: the base of the range is about 6000 feet (above sea level) and the highest peak is 11,032 feet.

My maternal grandmother grew up hiking, climbing, and horseback riding all around the largest valley, Lamoille Canyon. After their marriage, my grandparents camped and hiked countless times, throughout their fifty-plus years together, up that same glacial-carved canyon.

We traveled there, the three of us, honoring the request of grandma, grandpa, and my mom's two sisters to be returned to their favorite spots.

To reach Lamoille Lake, the trail-head begins in the canyon at 8800 feet and travels up two miles to 9740 feet.

The three Dollar Lakes are found along the trail, just below Lamoille Lake at 9610 feet.

At such altitudes, spring was just beginning. Wildflowers were blooming everywhere. Streams and creeks were flowing with ice-cold water. Large snowbanks were still clinging to the slopes and covered bits of the trail.

The loveliness and grace of the dancing leaves of the quaking aspen trees in the breeze were such a sight. Old, healed scars of now-illegible carvings in the bark of these trees keep past loves secret.

"Our death is not an end if we can live on in our children and the younger generation. For they are us, our bodies are only wilted leaves on the tree of life." ~Albert Einstein


marta said...

What an exciting couple weeks you've had! I'm glad you're feeling better - hospitals are no fun. Your hike looks beautiful. I hope everything else is going well.

Antevasin said...

So glad to see you are up and about!!!

cher said...

What a beautiful area, how lucky you are to have memories there.

Gotta Knit! said...

My heart goes out to you. I know how bittersweet it is to have the last goodbye. Beautiful place they picked.

Sharon said...

Gorgeous photos. Thanks for sharing.