Coming into town, a town known for the vibrant hues of maples trees in the autumn, we could not help but notice the absence of color. The summer had been so hot and dry that the few trees that were beginning to change showed on russet where scarlet usually waved. Some leaves are crispy dry and will have no color this year. A few yellows tinge the edges of trees, but we were ever more thankful of seeing the pulsating and flamboyant shades of the West’s autumn.
The air here is like the mountains now. The mornings are a tad chilly and the sun warms up the afternoons. It is gorgeous weather really and so like the perfect days on our trip. The mornings are darker now though. The dawn is dark enough I can’t go out to read on the deck until later in the day. I hate that. But the pictures and memories of the West will wrap around me for a while, extending the pleasures and taking me into the coming winter days.