We went on a road trip last weekend back to the mountains. Our destination was Nelson, nestled in a narrow valley with a long lake-river running by. I had a list of places I wanted to have coffee or get food at and tea blends and favorite products to buy. There were friends to visit, a few stored possessions to collect, and I wanted to see the splendor of the fall colours and say goodbye to the house that we are selling.
It rained heavily the morning we left our island home. From the ferryboat, the mist hung heavy on the shorelines we passed, long tendrils of cloud clinging to the tall conifers. I glimpsed a bald eagle through sheets of sideways rain.
And then we drove, and drove and drove, for hours. Mostly Jer drove while I read aloud to him. I drove a long winding section through high country, bright reds, oranges, pinks and yellows sweeping by under now-blue skies.
Next, a magnificent landscape of Ponderosa pines and rolling hills; sagebrush; magpies; dry crumbling mountains laced with silver, gold and copper; the shimmering Similkameen, shallow and wide, rolling on down over rounded river rocks.
It was raining when we drove into Nelson, the beautiful lake peaceful, but the excitement of the day had been lost to the kind of dream-shattering conversation that sometimes only long hours in a vehicle can bring. The placid water and yellow-leaved cottonwoods then served as a backdrop for us to build new plans and dreams over subsequent drives along the lake shore that weekend.