The October earth up Cody Peak ia a graveyard of broken wedding china. We pass through clumps of high alpine forest littered with rocks that seem too fragile to carry the ancient indentions of sea life in their spiny fragments. How had they lasted so long in this unreachable place? There is an ancient energy and a frigid stillness to the air, and it doesn’t seem so unfathomable that these jagged fields of rock were once underneath the sea. After the descent we wander over to a little pond whose banks were covered in aspen trees wrought with leaves the color of balsam root flowers and skip rocks for the better part of an hour. This must be the oldest past-time. The weight of a stone in my hand feels Biblical. On my walk back to the car I look out at the road with an aching sentimentality, holding on to summer just as the leaves are starting to turn.


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