Around 7 o’clock this evening I walked next door to drop off the dinner I’d made for my parents. On my way back across the yard, I looked off to the left and stopped in my tracks.
Down where I was standing, it already felt like night. The trees right in front of me had gone dark and shadowy, and the sky was that soft, washed-out blue with a blanket of clouds stretched across it. But up on the mountain, the sun had just enough left to catch the top of the ridge. Every orange and red leaf up there lit up like somebody flipped a switch.
That’s one of the funny things about living in a holler. The sun leaves us early down here at the foot of the mountain, but it hangs around up top a little longer, like it’s not quite ready to say goodnight. Most evenings I don’t think twice about it. Tonight I grabbed my phone.
The leaves have been turning all month, and this felt like the mountain showing off one more time before they all come down. A few more weeks and those trees will be bare, so I’m glad I caught it.
Some nights the best view is the one right outside your door. You just have to look to the left at the right minute.