Autumn is Here

Summary

A writer describes a serene autumn drive through Utah's Highway 143, culminating in a solitary walk in a forest where they capture the beauty of nature with their camera.

Abstract

The author shares a personal experience of driving on the Utah 143, venturing onto a forest road, and immersing themselves in the sights, sounds, and smells of the wilderness. They find a secluded spot surrounded by unique, white trees and take in the crisp air, the smooth, cold bark of an aspen, and the golden leaves contrasting with the overcast sky. The scene is peaceful, punctuated by the sounds of the forest and the sight of a few raindrops. The writer reflects on the arrival of autumn, suggesting a connection between the natural world and a sense of introspection or renewal.

Opinions

The author appreciates the solitude and beauty of nature, as evidenced by their decision to drive on an empty highway and seek out an isolated location in the forest.
There is a sense of reverence for the natural environment, shown through the detailed description of the forest's sensory elements and the emotional impact of the scene.
The act of photographing the grove indicates the author values capturing and preserving moments of natural beauty.
The carved heart on the aspen symbolizes the author's personal connection to the place and perhaps a broader theme of human interaction with nature.
The recommendation of other related articles suggests the author believes in sharing experiences and perspectives on nature's beauty with a wider audience.
The encouragement to support the author through a Medium membership implies a value placed on the community of writers and readers on the platform.

Golden Leaves Shining Against a Cloudy, Blue Sky

I’m driving the Utah 143, toward Panguitch; the highway is empty today. Turning, I follow a forest road, rugged and unpaved. The windows are down and the smells of pine and dust fill the car. I breathe it in.

I find an isolated place where I’m surrounded by wilderness and grab my camera. I wander into a grove of twisted, white trees. On the path, rust-colored, volcanic stones protest as I roam, crunching and scraping. The air is crisp.

I lean against a quaking aspen, its bark smooth and cold against my skin. A heart is carved into the wood, a black scar. Its golden leaves shine against the cloudy, blue sky, and a few lonely raindrops kiss my cheeks.

Autumn is here.

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