Aspens are related to Poplar trees, Genus Populus. We have them here in the mountains of Vermont. In fact, we live on Popple Dungeon Road, the local vernacular for the dense canopy they form as a grove.
In high mountains in October, the peaks turn a shimmering gold. The air is crisp and clear, the turquoise sky a deepening indigo. It starts slowly, but with time an enormous expanse becomes a brilliant gold.
Then the forest is transformed under a canopy of auric light.
For about a week as the days pass the paths become covered with a yellow carpet and the mountains take on an other-worldly hush. The leaves whisper in the wind and talk of transition and rebirth. Walking among them is to be immersed in their light.
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There is something else about these trees that is remarkable; when you are out in the Aspen Groves you are more than a guest.
One of the world’s largest land based organisms, a grove of Aspens is connected underground through the roots. Entire stands are in fact a single, ages-old family.
Among their shelter, their canopy, and roots you are among family as they transform your light with their quiet rebirth.
This is their gift.
This is the Hour of the Aspens.
I wasn’t fortunate enough to photograph the Aspens in my year in Santa Fe. The beautiful images above are from the internet, authors unknown.
The text above is copyright Harry D. Hudson 2016.
