Every summer our family takes to the hills, rain or shine, with frequent weekends away backpacking and exploring. We suit the kids up with their adorably petite and jaunty back packs and lumber on with our own overstuffed and weighty gear, coaxing our four and six year olds with hiking treats, heaps of praise and rewarding vistas.
Every year, I take copious numbers of photos of fresh, minute alpine specimens that never cease to make me wonder at their hardiness and delicate beauty.
All of these alpines have the shortest possible growing season, rapidly transitioning from dormancy to growth, to blooming and pollination, to seeding and reproduction, before dying back in sere dark leaves with those early mountain frosts until they rest again for another cold hard winter. I have the utmost respect and delight for these pioneers of scree slopes and tumbled ravines.
Hours of endless exploration and delights, practically in our back yard – how lucky are we!?!