by Peter Anderson It is the third week in August. For the last two months, the sunrise has been sliding south on the eastern horizon, but today is the first day I’ve noticed it. Today, the morning light seems softer somehow. The aspens and cottonwoods throw out a little more shade during the day. The heat and glare at high noon no longer seems so oppressive. The mosquitoes are gone. A subtle chill rides in on the evening breeze. It is lovely but it is bittersweet. In the High Uintas, where I worked many years ago as a backcountry ranger, ...
