An experience is worth a thousand pictures

As I wove down the narrow trails in the flickering shade of autumn aspens, I regretted not bringing my camera. I didn't even think to grab it. With unending hours spent in neutral-colored classrooms and behind wooden library desks, I had so quickly grown accustomed to a monotonous life void such awe-inspiring vistas as were now flooding my senses. I ignored the path, which veered to the left without me, and slowed to a stop near the edge of a grove.

When I parked my bike against a knotty white tree trunk, a rusty bearing groaned aloud. It was an unexpected cough momentarily distracting from the majestic symphony of the mountain. This fleeting interruption was soon forgotten, however, as the next movement of nature's masterpiece began - the rustling of crimson and amber leaves to the accompaniment of crisp mountain air rushing its descent to the valley below. My gaze followed the swift course of the wind but quickly froze, attempting to absorb the beauty extending to the horizon in every direction.

My little grove opened up to the view of magnificent pine-filled valleys accented with yet more splashes of unique fall colors. Timpanogas was a distant gray backdrop to my breathtaking scene, yet its crown of snow-covered peaks glowed forth in the sunlight, evoking the awe and respect deserved by such a monarch of mountains. I stood silent and motionless while the symphony played on. A dimension of purity and truth unable to be composed or construed by man flowed softly into my soul.

Eventually returning to my bike, I embarked again down the meandering trail. I narrowly missed a bulky root and swerved to a stop, giving flight to an even blend of dirt and leaves; a startled doe pranced beyond my view in a secluded meadow. I smiled - a mixed reaction to my personal clumsiness and lingering awe. My camera could never have captured this experience.