The leaves have bent their way toward winter, shrinking in size; their pigment scorching in death. The mountains around here are speckled with deep yellow as the golden larch trees show their fall colors. Up in the higher mountains of the park, the aspens have already begun to shrink, but they are still burning brightly here by the lake.
I have traded my long sleeve tees for flannel, and my chacos for boots. I often take a walk or go for a run after dinner; the chill in the air reminds me of so many nights spent outside camping as a kid. Autumn in the far north is different from the east coast seasons of my childhood, but bright blue sky and yellowing leaves always peak my spirit. Thankful for the opportunity to be in a period of transition along with the earth.