I had been terribly impressed by the fall colours on Ferris, so had high hopes for the lower, more diverse habitats on the Seminoes.

I wasn't disappointed:

Took us at least twice as long as normal to get up to the head of Markingpen, just because I was stopping all along the way, staring at at all the yellow, orange and red trees and bushes.

This is where the heeler sisters and I stopped for lunch:

While most of the aspen were still clad in leaves, enough had fallen, and were falling as I watched, to give the woods a carpet of yellow and orange.

A less proud person might admit to talking to these trees, telling them how beautiful they looked, and thanking them for the display. He might also admit to gently sliding his hand into clumps of that golden yellow, feeling the delicate leaves tickling his hand in the breeze.

He might. He also might not.

I had become a little disappointed with the new digital camera, as it did not seem to be capturing a lot of distant shots as clearly and as vibrantly as they actually looked. Then I happened to take off my photo-grey glasses, high on the mountains after teaching the astronaut namesake how to gut an elk, and looked around.

The world was hazy.

I was just looking at it through smoke-coloured glasses.

Managed to do a quick maintenance check while we were up on top. Kudos to anyone who can tell me what this is:

Trees on the north side of the range were even more colorful, more livid:

Crawled all over the mountains in the afternoon, up and across narrow trails left by the gold miners over a century ago, after a visit at the local ranch. And a stop at my jade boulder. Had hopes for a good sunset as well, but was disappointed. Too many clouds in the west, and we were still in the canyons, so the evening was dark and grey:

Not wanting to end on a dreary note, here's one last bright token of the day: