Jane's Blog: If a Tree Grows in the Wilderness....

For months, it’s been one thing after another: Middle East turmoil, Japanese disasters, national budget crises, statewide financial struggles – even at my own college, classes have been cut and advertised positions canceled. Every time I open my laptop, there’s something new.

So yesterday, when a government shutdown seemed imminent, I did what I always do during bad times – I went to the mountains. Despite April flowers in the valley, snow covered the hills, which were shrouded in cloud. Sunshine was predicted for the weekend, but by then the national parks might be closed.

Up in the foothills, redbuds bloomed bubble-gum pink amidst the greens, just below the snowline. In the Giant Forest, snow banks towered above my car. At Round Meadow, the path was a series of faint indentations, buried under eight inches of light new powder. I swished through on snowshoes, breaking trail.

I didn’t go far. I stopped along the edge of the meadow, where giant sequoia trunks glowed faintly red beyond the snow. A tentative patch of blue sky suggested sunshine. I stared at the trees and thought about disasters.

If a tree grows in the wilderness and no one can visit it, does it really exist?

For a moment, the sun lit up the trees across the meadow – then it faded. I followed my own tracks back to the road and trudged up the hill. At the main parking lot, the Beetle Rock trail was also pristine, the most recent footprints hidden under snow.

Beyond the rock, clouds hung over the valley, shafts of sun lighting distant rainstorms. I waited for a long time until the sun emerged below the cloud bank. For a moment, the snow sparkled; my shadow appeared on the next ridge east. Then it faded, and the sun went back into the clouds.

I drove down the curves in the dark. Just before I came down out of the snow, a black bear scrambled up out of my headlights into the trees – first bear of the season.