On tamaracks, and late fall

November 30, 2011 § 2 Comments

The leaves are gone from the hillside and the glory of the red maple and of the yellow aspen and birch is strewn upon the ground. Only in the protected swamps is there any color, the smoky gold of the tamaracks. A week ago those trees were yellow, but now they are dusty and tarnished. These are days of quietly falling needles when after each breath of wind the air is smoky with their drift.

-Sigurd F. Olson, Into the Singing Wilderness

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