The first frost on the north trail
I went up before sunrise to beat the wind, and found the whole meadow stitched with silver. There is a particular hour in October when the ground has frozen overnight but the sun has not yet reached the valley floor, and everything holds very still.
The north trail is only three miles out and back. I have walked it often enough that I no longer watch my feet, which means I notice other things: the frost on the north side of every stone, the deer tracks crossing the path, the larches letting go of their needles all at once.
Start cold, end warm. The body is a better furnace than any jacket.