Early November. This time of the year always evokes wistfulness in me. Summer’s vibrance is no more. Riotous fall colors are gone, too. Skies remain overcast. Everything appears grey, muted, banal. Winter knocks at the door. Frost greets me every morning, and a chilly twinge has permanently invaded the air. But winter remains outside for a time, and my world hangs in a sort of limbo, between fall and winter. The defining characteristic of this season is colorlessness. So when my family and I took a leisurely stroll in Glacier, the last thing I expected to see was green. Despite the advanced season, despite heavily overcast skies, despite lack of flourishing summer foliage, all I could see was green.