There is not necessarily a season that I would say is my favorite in the mountains. I frankly am spellbound by each and fortunately have the opportunity to experience the dramatic changes and peak conditions alongside the very subtle and slow changes that mark the beginning and end for all.
The spring in particular is a welcome change from the harsh, cold winter. The streams fill with water, the birds return to the mountains and the leaves burst forward from the trees and plants, stretching their new growth towards the warm and nourishing sun. Not only does it signify rebirth, growth and good things to come, it also represents the time of year when survival becomes easier. We shuck the winter cloths, worry less, don shorts and broad brimmed hats and like the leaves on the trees, reach for the comforting influence of the sun. The winter is to be tolerated, but the spring is to be greeted, casually welcomed into our lives with ease, like an old friend.
Since the mountains can be defined by a variety of climate zones, spring lasts a long time, starting at lower elevations and slowly marching its way forward to the highest peaks. Depending on where you are, there is a moment when finally, all the leaves are out and dripping green, when the textures, richness of color, depth of saturation, and weight from spring storms are at their peak. Blowing Rock has finally reached that moment in time and I relish the opportunity to let it wash over me, cleansing my soul, raising my spirits and preparing me for the next wonderful moment in the unbelievably great outdoors.