seasons in the sun

fall has to be the best season to drive through. the blast of exhilaration at screaming down a wooded lane leaves billowing up behind, slaloming around a frosted corner, the yellows and reds blurring past. The crisp air pungent with wood-smoke, the sun's warmth turned down to 'liveable'and every multi-hued minute a gift from god. time to stow the rifle in the truck and keep a sharp eye for deer and elk, offerings to the freezer god. (luckily no moose on the island). tires spinning on wet asphalt, sliding on ice and whining out a truck driving tune as i spin down the road, carefree as the squirrels sitting on their caches chirping at the world.