I have always loved this time of year–there is an indefinable quality to the air or the light–or both–that seems so poignant to me. The drive along the Columbia River, toward Northport–for me that will always be the road home–turns spectacular during the autumn season, as the leaves turn every color from palest gold to brassiest orange to deepest crimson. The sight is breathtaking–each leaf seems to shimmer from within, as though lit by some other sun, in some internal universe.
There are birch trees in my front yard–or cottonwood. I’m not sure which. I do know this much–they are… Read More »