Within just a few short days the familiar summers breeze had turned into a fall wind. The once green grasses had grown tall and golden. Each blade rustled and danced along the paths edge as the hillsides now sang a distinct song…the song of a changing of seasons. 
As I walked along further into Washington, subtle signs of winter began to say hello to me. I was greeted by cheerfull, colorful leaves…
Crisp, blue fall skies…
Brisk, cloudy mornings…
And below freezing nights… 
Looking back, I suppose the below freezing nights weren’t so subtle as they were obvious…winter was here…for a moment at least! And so it was with one swift storm that winter descended upon me for the first time on the trail of the Pacific Crest. 
The mornings first footsteps fell onto crunchy, frozen ground. The ice crystals that pushed up through the soil were a very familiar sign of winter closing in…
I attempted to run ahead of the impending storm. Upon reaching the high ridge lines of the infamously treacherous, (yet really not so) “knifes edge” I found that I was surrounded by snow clouds. 
As the snow flurries grew into a white out I ran faster to reach lower elevations and the protection of trees. 
It was beautiful and cold. I kept walking and thought of warm memories like the carrot I had just been given in the middle of no where… 
And the sweet tough woman and her dog I had just met… 
And the llama from a few days before… 
And the kind “trail awesome guys” that were really so awesome to us…
And the special visit in a place called Trout Lake… 
With those thoughts I quickly made it down from the storm and on to new adventures…
Adventures of hiker trash…
Hiker milestones…
Hiker huts that put you to sleep with the sounds of rain drops on a tin roof and the warmth of a stove…
Hiker kindness… 
And hiker bliss… 
PIE ON A TRAIL 