Tuesday, September 7, 2010

Golden season

It's golden season in California. The tall grass shimmers in the heat, and the oaks are so dry their rustling leaves make music in the wind. There has been no rain for months. The native plants know how to survive the dry season, while greener exotics wither for lack of moisture. In Leona Canyon, where I sometimes hike, goldfinches feast on dried seedheads and blue dragonflies skim the last trickle of water in the creek. The creek cuts the canyon in half, a dividing line between sunlight and shadow. The lush, north-facing slope frowns darkly across the ravine at the bright, south-facing slope. The air smells like chaparral, and when an afternoon breeze stirs the trees I hear the long golden music of summer.

4 comments:

CJGallegos said...

Beautiful.

smartz said...

That was just gorgeous. Read like a poem. No, actually, it is a poem. Bravo!

farmlady said...

I was raised in Pleasant Hill and your description of the "golden season" is so lovely it makes me remember my childhood. I use to call the hills "Brandy" hills because they looked like our old dog's fur, golden and sunlit.

Now I live in the foothills and the hills are still "golden" and the oaks are crisp and sing in the wind.
Thank you for a lovely post and beautiful photo.

Tai said...

Farmlady, what a beautiful memory, thank you for sharing it. I love the image of hills like an old dog's golden fur....