Wes, Doris, and Nina all accepted my invitation. Wes and Doris, my husband’s parents, and my mother, Nina, would enjoy a mountain drive to Fall Creek. Fall Creek "falls" swiftly from the mountains of south-central Idaho into the bowl of Anderson Ranch Dam reservoir. Everyone seemed happy for the chance to get out of the house and see the countryside. Though Mom drives, the day Wes nodded off at the wheel and landed his pickup in some rocks, he was grounded. Which was why each week my husband took his parents to Walmart for groceries and McDonalds for a chocolate shake. For our Fall Creek excursion I’d rented a nice spacious van with big windows so we’d all have a good view. Some planning went into our picnic lunch. I settled on my special fried chicken recipe and potato salad with peach pie for dessert. Hearty, good food for people who grew up in a time when everything was homemade and hand-done. The drive to Fall Creek took us through Prairie, Idaho, a high plateau of grass and hayfields surrounded by the Trinity and House Mountain peaks. It was a little dusty on the gravel road, but my passengers seemed to not notice.
They were completely absorbed by the scenery outside the van windows, watching for deer or coyote, interesting craggy canyons, or wildflowers and fruited elderberry bushes that grew in hedges along the road.
Doris said she use to pick the little elderberry beads and make jam. We stopped at a roadside informational sign that explained the terrain, vegetation, and wildlife in the area. Campers and cars whizzed past us, but Wes, Doris, and Nina paid no attention. They took their time reading the sign about catch and release regulations for bull trout caught on the south fork of the Boise River. When we opened the door to the van to get back into the car, the delicious smell of fried chicken wafted out at us. “Dee, I’m getting hungry,” my mother said, turning to me. “Are there any picnic tables around here?” “Yes, five or so miles ahead at the Ice Springs campground. It won’t take long to get there, I promise.” Leaving Prairie the landscape shifted from grasslands to conifer forest. Our van tunneled its way through spectacular stands of ponderosa pine, lodge pole pine and Douglas fir. Ice Springs campground lived up to its name. Nestled into its forest hideaway, Ice Springs had lots of shade and a cool stream running next to it that was much appreciated in the summer heat. Chipmunks and squirrels entertained us, and the fragrant scent of pine trees made us all think of faraway Christmas. The trip to Fall Creek with our parents happened almost ten years ago now. Wes and Doris are no longer with us, though my mother is still doing well.
I thought of that long-ago trip this past weekend when my husband and I drove this same route to Fall Creek. The thick green stands of pine and fir are gone now, replaced by dead and burned-out snags. Like many Northwest forests, the Boise National Forest has been ravaged by drought and wildfires the past several years. Wes and Doris would be saddened to see how each August our blue skies are plagued with smoke. For most of their lives our parents were blissfully unaware of climate change. Of course, in their lifetime they had other problems: WWII and nuclear bombs.
But today, climate change is our issue. And lest we forget, every dry, scorching summer reminds us of this painful reality. I’d like to see Fall Creek in all its green glory again, the trees tall and soaring like cathedral spires. Maybe my grandchildren will—or maybe not. If we don’t figure out our climate problem soon, the Fall Creek we once knew may be lost to them as well.
34Isabelle Shifrin, Laurie Black and 32 others
13 Comments
1 Share
Like
Comment
Share