Over the River and Through the Woods...

     The phrase "daily work commute" conjures images of gridlocked city streets and 7-lane freeways moving at a snail's pace. However, my own daily drive to work is quite the opposite. As the crow flies, my home and the school where I teach here in the foothills of the Sierra Nevada are only about 8 miles apart, but the winding country roads that connect the two cover closer to 11 miles and take me about 25 minutes to traverse.
     As I head east, the road winds through the rolling foothills, the grassy hillsides dotted with majestic old oaks and the occasional gray granite boulder. Long gravel driveways lead to rambling old ranch houses sitting on 10 and 20 acre "spreads" that are home to both domestic and wild animals. Strolling families of deer and swarms of wild turkeys outnumber the grazing horses and cows and ranging chickens.
     The next leg of the drive takes me over the Bear River on a one lane wooden bridge. The road winds down into the steep-walled granite river canyon and then climbs back up the other side, leaving Nevada County and entering Placer County, in the heart of the old 49er Gold Country. When two cars approach the river bridge at the same time, one must wait, as the bridge will only accommodate a single car. Years ago, tires on the bridge made a lovely "clackety-clackety" sound as I drove across, but road crews have since paved over the wooden slats and now the tires simply hummmm. I love to pause in the center of the bridge and look up and down the canyon at the water tumbling robustly over rocks and through pools before bending out of sight.
     The elevation on the eastern side of the river is considerably higher than on the west, and the narrow road climbs steeply up the rocky wall of the canyon, winding tightly as it climbs. Not far past the river, the road once again narrows to one lane and twists and switches back on itself before crossing an irrigation canal that carries water from the high country swiftly down to reservoirs at lower elevations.
     On the eastern side of the river, the rolling grasses and stately oaks are displaced by tight clumps of conifers and views of snow-topped mountain peaks further east. Heading north, the road is joined on the right by train tracks, the western end of the Transcontinental Railroad, which eventually heads up and over the Sierras. To the left, unseen in its winding canyon, the Bear River flows parallel to the road as well. Twists and turns carry the road steadily higher and higher to the edge of serious snow country, before ending at my school.
     What I enjoy most about my daily commute is the ever-changing nature of the landscape through which I drive. The seasons paint their unique versions of natural beauty on the land as the road climbs from one distinct foothill landscape to another.
     Right now, in the depths of winter, it is the passing storms that provide for the dynamic and changing forms that beauty takes. Some weeks, the road is but a black strip slicing through a snow-covered white expanse, overhung by trees draped in shawls of white. Last week, with its series of wet storms passing one after another, the scenery consisted of gray-on-gray textures and patterns. The road was tunnel-like as it burrowed through the dripping trees to the sounds of the car splashing along puddle-dotted asphalt. This morning, the sun rose above the distant Sierra peaks and its rays sliced across a sky devoid of clouds for the first time in days. The wet ground glistened and steamed as the dampness began to evaporate, rising in tendrils and wrapping itself around tree branches, before disappearing overhead.
     I look forward to the coming of Spring, when the roadside will be decorated with wildflowers blooming under trees budding green, and the hillsides will turn an even lusher version of emerald, so intense one can practically see the photosynthesis happening. The Bear River will run wild with snowmelt. Each day's show of colors will be a bit different from the one before, making the drive something to anticipate with eagerness.
     Summer and Autumn bring their own dynamic versions of natural beauty... but I'll save that for later... no point in moving too far out of the present... not when the present has so much to attend to, so much beauty to savor... right now...