Stepping out, you are greeted with a sheet of sunlight, barely warm, as it falls behind the mountain pines. The sharp whine of a train whistle echoes across the landscape, running from ear to ear as it moves through the town some distance away. Its chuffs and clatter are softened through the mountains and trees, their shrillness reduced to an interesting and rare sound. A raven's distinct caw stands out among the tweets and chirps of smaller birds that fill the air. Not so much to be repetitive, but each to seem unique to those without familiarity. Some songs are far and tiny while some perch nearby and sing proudly. Another raven calls out to the first, some distance away, and the two continue their pointed discussions until finding nothing else to say and flying away. The rush of wind from cars in the distance is apparent like it would be in any suburban landscape, and is eventually forgotten by our consciousness.
The early evening air is still, but not heavy. It has a crispness, with a hint of flowers and wood, and even in the summer, it whispers with a hint of coolness. As you are dipped in valley twilight, the conifers remain dark and stoic, stretching to the light blue sky and the wispy clouds above are carefree, floating away forever.
When quiet enough, the flutter of feathers will be heard, followed by the short visit of a red-chested robin, who looks around, and then flies off again. Follow the occasional rustling to see a tree whose thin leaves shine like glitter against the sky. The pine trees nearby sway in tune as you soon feel the grace of the lightest breeze. If a gust visits the valley, the shimmer of leaves will sound like a waterfall before cascading over you, tussling your hair and tickling your neck. These seem to increase as the sun sinks lower on the horizon and the chill of the evening descends upon the valleys. The golden rays creep up the mountain tops leaving blue shadows in the rolling landscape and the breeze becomes more common.
Dusk will arrive soon and take its time in leaving.
