Fiddling with the map and GPS today…at 4100 feet in elevation the trail was not snowy. By 4200 feet it was. We were hiking in what Pam calls “freshies.” Very recent snow. The mountains were hidden by snow squalls blowing over the crest. For awhile it looked like we would be engulfed. The wind was sure cold enough to keep us moving.
My eyes were drawn to everything: yellow willows on a gray creekbank, Clark’s nutcracker swooping up into a fir tree, the powdering of ferns, a scatter of amber pine needles on the ground.
In The Rainshadow 
I’m out every day in my enchanted Maine woods: my eyes, too, are drawn to everything: the flash of a Blue Jay, the lifting of a family of crows, how the Bracken Fern has browned and powdered to feebleness from it’s jungley impenetrable summer state (well, impenetrable with a small dog in harness and longline out front; what tangles!) sunbeams shafting down through forest canopy, stabbing into the deep emeralds, glowing silvers and grays of moss below… and a favorite thing! …to see small evergreens; stiff spruce and the more limber firs; ‘decorated’ with the reds and golds and bronzes of nearby deciduous trees: golden White Birch leaves, red White Maple ones, Golden Sugar Maple contributions… the gold of Poplar, a shade darker than the birch.. perfect young trees, dressed for celebrating the coming fresh new season.