Memories from last season
Provo Canyon is a different kind of beautiful today. Sparse light, filtered by dark clouds, reflects dully off the foliage. Vibrant oranges and reds now cling desperately to the abundant limbs that have turned nearly black from a day of constant rain. All around me, low hills thrust their balding yellow heads up through rings of hoary clouds. A mist rises lazily off Deer Creek reservoir, obscuring my vision slightly as I cross the dam. With the passing of miles, the rolling hills reluctantly give way to steep craggy cliffs and the fickle colors of fall succumb to the steady evergreen of the pines. This is the part of the drive I really like.
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