Leaf Peepers

I have spent the last two weekends in the White Mountains of New Hampshire, which are well known for the brilliant colors produced by the deciduous trees as one last orgasm before they go into suspended animation for the winter. Maples, poplars, birches and beeches turn from their various hues of green into gold, yellow and bright red. The oaks, meanwhile, less boisterous turn a dignified rust. The mountains, once stripped of their trees for a voracious timber industry have recovered, and are more than eager to show off that they have not been defeated. In the valleys, the small, gravel bottomed rivers are alive with the yellow and red boats the leaves make as they drift away toward the ocean on the gold water.
It is beauty such as this, that people from the world over come to marvel. But do they really see anything? The main highways coming in and out can be bumper to bumper with crawling traffic. But out in the mountains, one can still be very much alone, sometimes within feet of even the inter-state which follows the Pemigewassett River up into the mountains. Why?
The answer is simple: the people who come to see the beauty of nature flock into the several tourist towns along the road to buy trinkets made in the orient and decide which faux Nordic sweater or piece of Scotland they are going to take home with them. I suppose the area needs the business, and retail is what keeps the economy going, but I have never been able to fathom why folks would want to drive into such a special place and just shop. Why not stay home and do it, for God’s sake.
Ah but wait. If those who came for the foliage actually wanted to see it, I would not be able to enjoy the easy solitude of the mountains even on Columbus Day. Keep shopping, people.