“Time don’t fly, it bounds and leaps” John Prine
Fall in the Wrangells. Nature performs another crescendo. It gets dark again. The stars are visible at night, along with your breath. The soap berry bushes have withered, while the cranberries ripen into robust translucent orbs. All the animals are fat. Everyday is crisper. The air tastes like it has fermented in the mountaintops. The colors are starting to peak. The change is perceptible in real time. It’s fall. Everyone is exultant, even stupefied. Commenting on the season is required conversation. It’s like standing beside the ocean. It really can’t be ignored. Certain phenomenons are just like big cosmic turbines generating a profound amount of WOW voltage. A clear night sky bursting with stars is like that, same with horizon events, sunsets and sunrises. Seasons, no matter how many you’ve lived through, are like that too. The whole landscape, the world as we know it, revolts, morphs, and revolutionizes seemingly overnight.