Walking through the rainforest on a fall day is like walking through an art museum with fogged up glasses. When you wipe your glasses clean, the beauty appears. This morning I literally have to whip rain off my glasses to see anything. The clouds that hide the mountains earlier are thinning to reveal a slice of Sheep Mountain summit.
The summer colors are long gone from the meadow. But they have left behind a field of yellows and browns that set off the deep green of the stunted pines that struggle in the poor soil. This morning it is a worthy subject for Sargent or Monet.