Yellow Yellow Lockett Meadow

“We’re going camping,” said my boyfriend as he looked at me with a half quirked smile. It was fall, the air was crisp and I knew camping meant stargazing, campfires, and romance. “Okay,” I said. I had no idea I was about to experience the magic of one particular Arizona forrest. See, I’ve gone camping before, so I was used to seeing green trees, green grass, green moss, heck even green flowers. I was in for a surprise this time. We packed up our gear and left just as the sun kissed the horizon goodnight. After a while the smooth tar road was replaced with dirt, and the sound of sticks breaking and rocks rumbling below woke me from my sleep. We were there.

We set up our tent in the cold black night with only our truck’s headlights to guide us through the dark. Zipped in tight, our sleeping bag was the perfect nest for our heavy eyes and chilled bodies. “You’re going to love tomorrow. Goodnight babe,” he said. My sleep was somber and matched the atmosphere of the dreary night. “Will I?” I said quietly to myself to avoid interrupting his heavy breathing and intermittent snores. All was finally quiet and I slept.

Daybreak was a half an hour away. “Wake up or we’ll miss it,” he said as I threw open my eye lids. I grabbed my shoes and a rubber band for my hair. I zipped open the tent to a russet toned woodland. A toothpaste and water cocktail was all I had time for, as he was already part way down the trail. I caught up quickly but was short of breath. Altitude training was not my forte. We made it to the top of a steep ridge. I managed to keep my head down the whole time as to not to trip over my two left feet and the uneven ground. I looked up just as the sun glistened over the mountains peak and turned back to view the terrain. There I saw it. What we had driven through the night for, what we had been sleeping in all along, what i had somehow missed while carefully molding my footprints into the soil for the last mile. The sun had awoken the extensive stands of birch which covered the steep slopes in a shimmer of gold. The leaves crackled as the wind swept up my hair and flowed through each leaf with the artistry of a ballet. A once normal island of emerald was over thrown by the glistening yellow hues of fall. A simple splash of sunlight had transformed mediocre timber into the romantic utopia I had longed for.

He was right, I did love it.