As the nights get noticeably cooler the aspen go to gold.
Yet the days are comfortably mild.
Fall is in the air, and there’s no looking back.
The aspen slowly turn away from green.
I live in the forest, with all the other wildlife.
And fall is here.
The changing of the aspen tell me so.
The ferns know too.
While some hang in there.
Others go to seed.
Just part of the cycle of life.
Lost in memories of the golden aspen.
Filling hillsides with color in a burn from a decade ago.
Rain brings new life.
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