Autumn is the greatest.
Hope to see you again soon.
⸰ ⸰ ⸰
Well, it was worth a shot, but of course there is more to be said! The day my remarks are that brief is probably a day without coffee. Which would be bad.
What is not bad is another edition of our monthly 10-on-10 collaborative project! Here are my fabulous colleagues:
Say hello and happy trails to the crew, and then we shall continue with my tale. Go ahead, I’ll wait….
A few weeks back we traveled through the mountains to Aspen. Our quest involved finding fall colors to photograph a fine, engaged couple standing in front of, among, and totally surrounded by the glory. It took a little more doing than you would expect when going to a place named for the exact trees which we sought (as you heard about a few days ago).
We spent our second day of the weekend rising before the sun to catch the sunrise. As one must do. We ventured to the Maroon Bells, an iconic mountain vista here in Colorado. Prior to this particular weekend adventure I had somehow never actually visited this famous and gorgeous place. I have been remiss as a Colorado native, they may revoke my birth certificate.
The pre-sun morning was 100 percent freezing. We’re talking icicles here, folks. And it being a famed destination, we were not the only photographers and visitors to make the trip.
It’s sort of like a postcard, don’t you think? You can see why so many would flock there.
It’s an interesting exercise in patience waiting for the sunrise in the mountains. You know what time the sun is supposed to make it’s grand appearance, but the mountains impede the progress a tad. So the sky starts to lighten and everyone stares at the peaks before you, waiting for the grayness to be replaced with brilliant yellows and oranges. But that pesky sun just takes its sweet time as you all get frozen to the spot.
Luckily you have awesome compatriots waiting with you. Like this fellow.
His name is Apollo. I think. I’m pretty sure that’s what the owner said. I’ve perhaps forgotten. But Apollo seems like a good name, especially since I’m pretty sure he was an explorer in another life. He was contemplative and friendly and inquisitive with the surrounding world.
At long last, we started to see glimmers of color gently painting the tops of the mountain.
It was beautiful and quick-lived. Ephemeral. Magical. And then it was gone. So we moved on to a balloon festival. As one must do.
Then we drove 12,000 feet up and over Independence Pass and caught the sunset. And there you have it. A beautiful mountain weekend to embrace this favorite fall season of mine.