Alaska Autumn

I woke up this morning with images of Alaska in the Autumn flickering in my brain. Canary yellow foliage reflected in a milky green lake. Thatches of amber-hued leaves glowing atop tall, slender trees. Fields set ablaze with stalks of crimson fireweed.

I loved the way Alaska looked in Autumn, painted in vibrant colors that could have only come from God's palette. Some crisp mornings, before the sun had chased away the chill, I would grab my camera, hop in the car, and drive around snapping shots of the masterpiece unfolding before me.

I always felt a strange melange of emotions: awe and elation to be witnessing such beauty and sadness in realizing it would soon end. I would look at the world around me and feel an impending sense of gloom, as the termination dust crept further down the mountains signaling winter's approach.

I don't know why I woke up this morning thinking about Alaska in the Autumn. I did not enjoy my time in that barren wasteland (devoid of sunshine and shopping malls). For me, Alaska came to be a place of cold, dark, loneliness. It is a place I associate with hardship and misery.

And yet...images of Alaska in the Autumn continue to play in my mind like a favorite movie, flickering on a screen somewhere deep in my brain. Memories are like that, though, aren't they? They flicker to life without warning, forcing you to play and replay a scene you have viewed many times before.