Creative interpretations of Eaton Canyon, its history, its species diversity, its landscape and its future as expressed in poetry, prose, photography, art and video. Submit your own Trail Magic HERE.
Save for the occasional yellow and orange Sycamore, autumn is a rather dull season in Eaton Canyon. Capturing fantastic landscape shots of the area is more difficult than usual, especially if you are looking for that diversity in color. However, on December 22nd, 2023, a quickly departing thunderstorm moving opposite of the late morning sun put on a spectacular show across the canyon. One of the most stunning and perfectly timed rainbows sat within the canyon for a whopping 8 minutes, allowing for multiple incredible photographs.
In Eaton Canyon, Halloween’s delight, Nature weaves its eerie spell at night. Beneath the moon’s enchanting, silver sheen, Spiders spin their webs, a sight to be seen.
Bats take flight, their wings of shadows dark, Across the velvet sky, they leave their mark. Through rustling leaves and whispered, ancient trees, They dance in twilight, carried by the Santa Ana breeze.
But amidst this beauty, a darker scene, Litterbugs disrupt the tranquil dream. They mar the landscape, casting shadows deep, On nature’s canvas, where her secrets keep.
Dead trees stand sentinel, their branches bare, A haunting chorus in the moonlit air. Yet even in decay, life finds its way, As nature’s spirits rise on Halloween day.
Eaton Canyon’s magic, a mysterious blend, Where nature’s wonders and spooks transcend. On this night of spirits, both eerie and grand, We find enchantment in this wondrous land.
Oddly warm rains bring us out. From our growing number far outliers enter dens bereft of our presence for untold generations. Coiled in darkness, we lick odors from the balmy air and, sensing an infrared glow, strike. We entwine in shade, our heat a sun gift.
Grey, bare yucca stocks accent the hills’ stark ribs. The level horizon shimmers blue, the air hot and still. Condors trace circles in the cloudless sky. On arid sand and pebbles a pronghorn skull rests, scoured white. Clear and sharp, the rattle sounds.
Before thinking, below knowing, the image, audible, visual, arrives, goes to work and, in belief, there’s a response, a reaction, a response. Abysses are for leaping into rather than over. Yet these leaps remain distinct in their contingent occasions.
Not for lack of sunshine, our range contracts, fragments. The ground holds strange vibrations. The rat increases. Boulders piled down the canyon’s sundown side a few generations ago offer dens. Stream water changes taste. More and more heat.
“This summer, on a canyon hike, my wife and I stopped still: a rattlesnake, crossing the trail, almost as thick as the old water pipe it was crawling over. Biggest rattler we’ve seen. To scoot by the spot where it vanished, we hugged the other side of the path.”
Robert Savino Oventile hikes Eaton Canyon regularly. His poetry has appeared in The New Delta Review, Upstairs at Duroc, and The Denver Quarterly. He is coauthor with Sandy Florian of Sophia Lethe Talks Doxodox Down (Atmosphere, 2021). Robert is the current Poet Laureate of Local News Pasadena.
