clouds and mist over the Wasatch Range
I often joke that summer tourists are too early to enjoy the best season on Cape Cod. By the same token, it may also be said that for snow birds seeking mountain splendor in Utah, the migration is a bit late. For while autumn in New England is quintessential and quaint, fall in my husband’s home state is its own kind of spectacular.
On a recent trip to see Chad’s family, we took several hikes in the hills right above Salt Lake. Here we were greeted by a different kind of autumnal scene. More harsh than the rolling hills of New England, fall in these rocky peaks conjures not so much the feeling of harvest, but of something more wild and exposed. Here, instead of air laden with the aroma of apples and grapes, mountain breezes carry the more exotic scents of rabbit brush and sage. No dense, dappled forest; in this arid, craggy place twisted vegetation dances on a more horizontal plane, leaving the heights to sky and stone. It is dramatic landscape, a congress of natural elements, in which not only color, but texture take center stage.