It is autumn now. I wish you could see Arizona canyons in their gorgeous
colors. We have had frost right along and the mornings are great. There's a
broad zigzag belt of gold halfway up the San Francisco peaks, and that is
the aspen thickets taking on their fall coat. Here in the canyon you'd
think there was blazing fire everywhere. The vines and the maples are red,
scarlet, carmine, cerise, magenta, all the hues of flame. The oak leaves
are turning russet gold, and the sycamores are yellow green. Up on the
desert the other day I rode across a patch of asters, lilac and lavender,
almost purple. I had to get off and pluck a handful. And then what do you
think? I dug up the whole bunch, roots and all, and planted them on the
sunny side of my cabin. I rather guess your love of flowers engendered this
remarkable susceptibility in me.
I'm home early most every afternoon now, and I like the couple of hours
loafing around. Guess it's bad for me, though. You know I seldom hunt, and
the trout in the pool here are so tame now they'll almost eat out of my
hand. I haven't the heart to fish for them. The squirrels, too, have grown
tame and friendly. There's a red squirrel that climbs up on my table.
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