The west evening sky was quiet and unassuming, nudging me to go North soon. This is the time of year that I prefer to be there.
"...Let us journey to a lonely land I know..."
The same view but the next morning with an eerie fire-like glow. Mind, it didn't rain as pink morning skies tend to predict. Mornings have that woodland damp in the air. If I listen very closely I can hear the trees waking up and the ever-moving rivers on their way to unknown places.
quote from R. Service's "Call of the Wild"
I feel that way too.
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