In early October, I take to the mountains. It is there, amidst a wilderness of peaks, that I can best appreciate nature's grand display of autumn color. Thus last weekend I drove north to the White Mountains yet again, where near 80% of the trees had turned. The simple and relatively quick route to the White Mountains encourages my regular returns, but I am repeatedly struck by the beauty I continuously find, safeguarded in the old places and bursting in the new. The Kancamangus Highway was as glorious as ever, but stumbling upon the Silver Cascade waterfall and hiking to Ripley Falls (both in Crawford Notch) afforded such excitement and exhilaration that made me eager for more trips. Is it odd that one of my favorite parts about being a Bostonian is how easy it is to get away?
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