|Misty on Greenwood Road|
There really is no gray in nature, only the natural hues that evolve and change with an increasing absence of light.
|North Cascades in October|
|Ocean and sky along 101|
Also, the ambient moisture makes me more aware of a broad palette of aromas: The fermentation of long dry grasses;
|Storm over Goose Lake: Nothing new for the barn|
The low ribbon of pine or cedar smoke from a late-season camper’s morning fire;
|Early snow on the ridge|
Even the diesel exhaust from the logger who just passed.
These aromas would simply warm and rise away on a sunny day. But in the middling days of fall, before – or especially after – a storm, they compose a banquet.
I never do much of anything to mothball the bikes because I never know on what November, December or January day, the conditions might be just right for another exploration of the way light plays with both the cloudscape and landscape...
|September dawn: Shelter Cove|
|October sunset at Old Greenwood (Elk)|
Church of the Open Road Press