And The World Was Set Aflame With Trees.

Before I write about the QWC, I have to tell you that I have never seen as beautiful a fall as I have seen in Vermont.

When I woke up in the early morning, with the sun's rays sweeping with thin fingers across the landscape, it was to beauty. Startling shades of rich, warm gold and vivid reds bled all over the subdued green of the hilly mountains. It seemed like Vermont was composed of just endless fields and pastures set in front of small mountains blanketed by forest; I did not see anything else until I got through Middlebury. It was so peaceful, and there were no other cars, no other sign of humans or houses, or even a faint whiff of city save the stretch of road we were travelling on- endlessly past the rolling hills and merging of greenredbrowngoldorangeredgold. A blend I'd never get tired of watching. I didn't even expect to experience a setting such as this anytime in my future. But it came upon me anyways, so gradual and gentle, like warm water's ascent, like dawn, like a realization.

The trees. God, the trees. I was in too much awe to be excited (such a cheap, mundane word compared to what I was feeling)- there was just so. much. colour.
The sky was the kind of light blue you'd imagine if you were to picture the setting for "Spring arrived that morning, with a string of birds in tow."

I have the landscape recorded in my mind, the way it flashed its glory past my window, and I wished my window was cleaner and the bus was slower so I could stick my head out the window and let the wind tangle my hair into a great mess while I soak up the sun and the chill and the colours too vivid to be real- but they were real. I could prove it to you, if only I could touch it.