September Hike Through Trout Creek Canyon

After miles of walking that girl and I chanced upon a single white flower blooming just off the trail that curls among the faces of cliffs and the teetering pines.  The flower, a campion, greedily clung to a pile of limestone—likely the very last flower of the year to hoist itself upright within the rarified cross-light of the canyon.

I stopped and poked at a blossom.

Sturdy.

I admire such tenacity at the end of our growing season—especially as the deciduous trees and the bushes are blushing color and shedding their leaves.

We put in six miles, I and that girl.  The sun vaulted overtop the cliffs as we hiked through.  The last few winged insects lifted from the duff and spiraled up and away.  A lone chickadee followed us for a short while, flitting from tree to tree.  Beyond that…just the two of us.

Hiking is one of those rare activities that triggers a shutdown on all negativity within my thought processes.  I am governed only by the scent of pine trees and sunshine while navigating below the talus slides and the tall stone overhangs.

It’s all good on the trail.

--Mitchell Hegman