I've recently returned from Washington DC and the late autumn countryside west up the Potomac River, into West Virginia. Changing environments for the eyes is like being a kid and opening a new box of crayolas - the eyes dance, I feel their excitement, they flit about every new scene, they are almost exhaustingly alive.

Peak fall color was two to three weeks ago. The countryside is now quiet, windshield travelers all back to the city. I can walk sections of the Appalachian trail without a single human interruption, save my own thoughts. Light is also quiet - Light without direction, from every direction. A walk in the forest is a muted journey from the rust and sable and Dijon end of the crayola pack - silhouettes cast against seamless sky.

My walk feels like that of a small child with his first bike and training wheels; it is a new approaching winter for me, for my eyes, I usually flee the cold, the damp, the lifeless, in winter, this time I'm staying, I'm wobbling and learning to pedal in a new Light.