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By this time on a normal year, our mountainsides glow from valley floor almost to timberline with the remnant pigments of aspen leaves. As the days get shorter, the leaves lose their green chlorophyll, and the hues that were masked by the green emerge for a week or two of glory. Thus the annual show of yellow, orange and red splashed across the hills.
However, I've yet to see a single glowing leaf this year. This shortage was the topic of some speculation in Leadville last weekend.
Some argued that this has been a perverse year when everything ran wrong. Winter didn't really arrive until March, and stayed on till well into June, perhaps July. Summer, during its sporadic appearances, was exceedingly hot.
Thus the aspen might get around to changing, but on their own good time, rather than the customary peak in mid-September. They might tarry until October or November, or maybe even May, much to the consternation of those who had set aside a September weekend for aspen viewing.
Another theorist said it had something to do with the
Contract with America. Let's face it,
he said,
for years we've been getting a free ride. The aspen
provide a glorious show, and we haven't paid a nickel for
it.
Now, if it's time to balance the federal budget, then
they've got to increase revenues from the federal lands
where most of the aspen grow.
They could raise grazing fees or quit subsidizing
timber sales, or even collect a royalty from mines, but you
have to remember that those are poor, hard-working
multinational corporations, and that only the Evil Cultural
Elite goes out to look at changing aspen.
So I bet Congress passed some law when we weren't
looking, and this law forbids the aspen from changing
colors until the viewer pays a user fee.
But how?
Well, they haven't got the view stations set up at
roadsides. But when they do, you'll just pull over, put a
dollar or two into the viewing machine, and presto, you'll
see the aspen. Those freeloaders who expect to enjoy public
land without paying a fair share will not see anything
except plain old green, or, in a few weeks, the bare limbs
and twigs.
In ways, that seemed reasonable, but a tree-hugger had another theory.
For generations, we've been shamelessly exploiting
the aspen,
she said, without ever giving them
anything in return. We used to carve our initials in
delicate aspen bark -- did we ever let them inscribe
messages upon us?
We've also been hard on aspen habitat. Every time you
send out a crew to fight a forest fire, you're preserving
fir and spruce zones, and without fires, we don't get the
open space that the sun-loving aspen crave.
She pointed out that most aspen groves are, in some
ways, a single organism, all cloned from runners. They
could communicate, and decide to go on strike and refuse to
change color until we start showing more respect for them.
That's the only way they can get our attention.
Her theory, as well as others, seemed a bit far-fetched, and more research is doubtless necessary.
But in the meantime, we have to live with the dire economic consequences. Many small towns, gas stations and cafes rely on the influx of autumn aspen viewers for a jolt of cash before winter sets in.
It would be tempting to say that Mother Nature has her quirks, and the failure of the aspen this year is just one of those bad breaks.
But that's not how things work in Colorful Colorado. If it doesn't snow enough, the ski areas don't just hope that business will be better next year. They install machinery and dry up rivers in order to guarantee snow on the slopes. Or they charter airplanes and drop silver iodide crystals into clouds, hoping to generate snow.
Similarly, our river-floating industries rely on dams and related flow control to produce thrilling whitewater adventures in the proper season.
And so, there should be a way to guarantee that the aspen will turn at the proper time, so that thousands of motorists will venture into the mountains.
Also, we have this problem with too many prisoners with time on their hands. Instead of putting them on chain gangs, we could issue them paint brushes and cans of bright non-toxic biodegradable colors.
Granted, we haven't produced enough felons to cover every aspen grove in the state, but the paint crews could be sent out along the major viewing corridors to insure that, at least in the favored zones, there will be colorful hillsides.
Thus the attraction will remain, and since we could control the timing, we could always guarantee that Aspen Viewing Season would open on Sept. 5 in the higher zones, working downward until Sept. 25, the formal closing date.
Given those firm dates, tourist enterprises could plan
accordingly with charter buses and package accommodations.
The prison leaf-painting crews would stay busy, and we
could go about our Colorado business of selling natural
beauty.
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