A Little Thoreau, a Dash of Saint-Exupéry, a Pinch of Hawthorne

Thoreau at Walden in winter by Will Moses.

We were going to hike first thing today, but the sky was a gloomy gray, and I was hoping for sunshine. Instead, we took a four-mile flat walk along the Saco River. Now, however, the sun is fighting to come out to play, and it is forecasted to be brighter throughout the afternoon, so we will hike to a peak later and watch the sunset. 

I enjoy an overcast day, especially this time of year. Heck, I adore rainy days from time to time. They invite me to stay in, read, make soup, and do the cozier things that make a house a home. But nothing beats sunshine on the changing foliage. The glory of the glow and emergence of autumn colors is one of those fleeting highlights I am compelled to abide by.

Like another lover of the White Mountains, Nathaniel Hawthorne—he died in Plymouth when he was only 59, wanting to see this area one last time—"I cannot endure to waste anything so precious as autumnal sunshine by staying in the house." 

Day by day, we watch fo…