Mystery and Magic in Color Season

It was an enormous forested bowl, hidden away from the roads behind acres of fields and orchards. A narrow farm lane led down into it, the sides of the bowl rising ever higher all around as one descended. From the bowl's ample base gew old maples, tall and straight, their yellow crowns rustling in morning sunlight high above the ground. Raspberry canes lined the trail. Planted? Wild? The lane was mowed but felt otherwise innocent of human activity, except for a few stacks of kindling along the way. At the very bottom, where the land stretched out wide at its lowest, quietest reach, protected by the steep, wooded slopes, a flock of black-capped chickadees broke the silence, flitting and cheeping in a stand of sumac flaming red as the sun finally cleared the top of the woods and shed light down into the bowl. No camera with me, only eyes to see, lungs to breathe, legs to climb, heart to wonder. And dog for company.