Which do you prefer, the ocean or mountains? Most people I know answer with a resounding preference for the ocean. I’m not one of them. I will admit that the ebb and flow of the waves can be relaxing but if I am given the opportunity to choose a natural backdrop, it would be the mountains. It makes me smile to think I have found one more subject that has me differ from what most people consider the norm. I will share why I find them captivating but I doubt that I will change anyone’s mind. Perhaps, I will offer a few thoughts, not previously perceived.

I have always enjoyed that the change in seasons is so evident in the mountains. As spring approaches, the trees and vegetation begin to awaken and offer a backdrop of color that would make Monet envious. Leaves begin their journey sporting a lovely shade of pale green. A spattering of delicate pink and white blossoms soften the harsh peaks and valleys. Soon the deciduous trees will catch up with the evergreens and offer shade that can often feel like a disco ball when the sun finds its way quickly peeking through gaps. I don’t feel there is much need to comment on the splendor of the changing leaves in the fall. Who wouldn’t find the colors that blanket the terrain beautiful?

I am also taken with fog and how it can decorate and embellish the mountains. Don’t confuse the thick, dense covering that frightens one when it is even hard to see the lines on the road. The fog I enjoy is the playful layer that shows up in ways that doesn’t threaten one’s safety. If you are fortunate, you might find yourself above the location where a cloud has decided to settle. It’s almost as if it is tired of its elevation in the sky and it comes down to lay low across the valley. Maybe the angels sprayed a can of whipped cream in between two towering mountains. One morning as I approached the mountain I could see fog, blushing as it laid across the top of the ridge. The sunrise was a glorious shade of pink and its reflection colored the fog in an unexpected way. If the angels were at work again, this fog was strawberry infused. Fog can also show its lighthearted side by looking like wisps of white smoke dancing here and there but not wanting to settle anywhere in particular.

Although it feels like a lifetime since I have enjoyed tales of giants, I can’t help but think that mountains could be the embodiment of them. During the winter, I find humor in the mountain giant in need of a shave. When the trees are barren and a fresh snow has fallen, the mountain takes on the appearance of stubble. Maybe the giant felt no one would be visiting in the snow and he went without shaving. In the spring, before summer has us cast off our blankets, I find a giant slumbering under a patchwork quilt. Farm fields, arrayed in various shades of green, cover a rolling landscape which might just be a giant taking a nap. There could be other giants in hiding, laying quietly until the time they are noticed.

I find there is so much to admire while in the mountains. I envy the flight of the eagles and hawks who get to see it from breathtaking heights. I watch for deer, raccoon and fox that claim the habitat as their own, while I only visit. Yes, the ocean can offer serenity and lull you to sleep with its wave action but I find the mountains rejuvenate me, no matter the season. Do I have any converts?