I’m not sure to the elevation, but Middle Mountain is way up there. Marilyn drove the 4 wheel drive up, up, up from Tucker Lane – where I used to live – to the top of the mountain and then to the old settlement, Tuckerville.“A beast, a beast, stop, go back”
We stopped long enough for me to take photos of the aspens turning yellow and gold. It’s the beginning of the fall season and soon, I’ll take a photo of the house on the river where we lived. In about two days the colors will be at their peak.
Meanwhile, visiting Middle Mountain is a memory of the spring show of flowers – Indian paint brush, the Colorado state flower: columbine, the state tree: blue spruce, wild roses, buttercups, bachelor buttons, blue bells, lupin, black eyed susan and more to feast your eyes on. I did feast my eyes, back in the 90s, when my neighbor and good friend, Charlotte and I hiked among the flowers, stumbling over logs and rocks, marveling at the beauty and feeling blessed to live in such awesome wonder. Champagne, Charlotte’s dog was always along with the admiration of spring in the rockies.
I also remember driving two Dutch ladies, who visited us from Holland, up to Middle Mountain, when one of them hollered, “a beast, a beast, go back, a beast.” They were previously told that wild animals lived in the mountains, such as bears, mountain lions, porcupine, raccoons, and more. So when one lady saw a large brown animal, it triggered her flight or fight response, and she wanted to get the heck off the mountain.
My curiosity was stirred, and I wanted to see the animal. So instead of turning around or backing up, I got closer and closer with the car, while she continued to scream, and then I saw the animal: a cow enjoying the wild grass.
Yesterday, Marilyn’s two dogs, Buffy and Ginger were let out of the vehicle to run a few times and to get a drink in a fast moving creek. Buffy and Ginger were instructed to sit on a rock, and being the good dogs they are, assumed their stance on a rock in the rockies.
Other memories followed while in the middle of yellow, orange and green, and the thought of the white of winter, when the snowmobiles come out to play.
Will and I were sitting quietly late one evening when there was a knock on the door. It was a man who got stranded on Middle Mountain while snowmobiling with his friend. They couldn’t get down off the mountain, but one did persevere and went for help. He called the rescue folks from our house, and all turned out well.
I think often how nature can nurture your soul, but can take it in a minute when it overpowers you with unpredictable forces. If you’re high in these hills, you must take heed of the weather.
Yesterday, we saw folks on horses, and a hunter getting his horse out ready with the bow and arrow season. Since we saw whole families of deer on our drive up middle mountain, I only hope they escape the arrow, and soon, the bullets.
Tuckerville was a gold miners settlement back in 1928. Nothing remains of the town, however, back when I lived in the area, I remember foundations that sat on the ground, the only signs of a miners hope of finding gold.