Cloudy and colder, maybe in the high fifties. Animals are now tucked in for warmth along with most bugs, and most people. However, the crickets sing loud in the daytime. I can hear nothing else.
Autumn colors, hills of brown and gold. The trees starting to change, the circling and the beginning. After some distance, I am then alone with the dead trees and dark forest, so deep and foreboding.
After a few steps in, things lighten up under the canopy. Still a strange green, but I feel good seeing the oaks turn to aspen to hickory. In the fields, I can see the old Wild Bergamot.
Hiking long distance in places I have never been. I think about the next turn, and the following. What’s behind the next trees. I think about a math formula I can not complete:
Distance + Uncertainty = X
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