There is a pungent smell in the air, a drab lock to the sky that altho it speaks eloquently of the coming of winter is not unpleasant. Winter itself, in the mountains is a season of beautiful vistas, ermine trimmed forests and exhilerating sports.
Last month the hills and meadows were a riot of brilliant frost-forne colors. That was autumn. This month the roads are strewn with the yellow leaves of the cottonwood and maple. It is November. Already the snow is crowning Eagle Peak and the Ramparts. Next month King Frost will rule the hills; then - winter.
The squirrels are still storing cones in secret places and the rangers are getting in their winters food supply. Paradise Valley already has 20 inches of snow and the bear and deer have migrated to the lower valleys. November is here in fact.
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