My maple tree is losing it's leaves. It is like watching it cry. In color.
The mist moves through the mountain valleys, creating backdrops for viewing. Without the mist behind, tall trees blend in.
But now they form an island.
Like all of us at times, I suppose.
Can you see them still?
There is a power line that dissects this scene.
On still, snow covered nights you can hear them hum.
It is an eerie sound.
But I must get busy.
Today I am going to town.
The season now in Washington State, is in the last of it's Autumn glory.
The road at the top of our little mountain makes you dizzy looking down.
But my eyes are drawn to the surrounding hills.
The hills are peppered with bright orange Maple trees. There are still a few leaves on the tips of the Cottonwoods. I can see the perpetual raindrops on my windshield that we have this time of year, along with a cedar sprig from the tree under which I park my little gray pick-up truck.
As I reach the bottom of the hill, I turn left and this is what I see.
This is a "4 way" intersection.
Three ways are gravel dead ends leading into the forest.
One way leads back home.
One way leads to the nearby ridge.
One way leads to the river.
This way leads down off the mountain and towards town.
I stop to take photos of this horse rolling next to lazy cows under a glorious golden Maple tree.
Flaming cherry trees guard the entrance to a white farmhouse.
Trees as brilliant as tropical flowers deceive us with their beauty, a temporary mask to the starkness yet to come.
Brilliance lies at our feet in homage of Nature's sun-god of creation.
Nourishment for a new year to come.
Nature ends it's season of growth with fireworks unrivaled by mere mortals.
Beauty to hold in our hearts during bleak Winter months to come.
Almost to my destination, I remember Nature's brushstrokes will be much more subdued next time I pass this way again.
So I drink in the colors until they fill my soul.