August Musings

It's funny how in my town, there is a flip-switch that turns Summer on and off almost instantly. Or as Cartman once said, "There are two seasons in [Winter] Park... Winter and July." August mornings feel like late September. When I took Butters outside at 7:30 this morning, I could see my breath. By 9 am the chill "burns off," and low-lying clouds linger in the trees like cotton stuck on Velcro. The cool air that fell from the peaks the night before begins to warm and rise. By noon the sun is hot, but the shade still chills the bones.

As 3 pm approaches, clouds roll in from the west and accumulate against the wall of the Continental Divide. There they coagulate, thicken, become volatile. Lightning flashes and a deep rumble of thunder echoes through the valley. Inside my cabin it feels like the sun has set for the night. We receive a quick, loud rain or endure an extended storm. It may clear by 7 pm, or it may linger until the morning. Those nights that it clears one may see a single, double, or even triple rainbow over the divide.

The storms that linger through leave a musty pine scent and one of those chills like we had this morning, when I could see my breath in early August. Visions of snowflakes dance through my head.