The trees are on fire along the Bulkley River, yet no smoke fills the evening sky. These flames have been lit by the season and the cool night air. Bright yellow and orange they burn, the intensity increased by the setting sun. The building storm fans the flames and they dance and flicker.
Now as the light fades the storm winds lift the embers into the sky. Swirling like mad bees they gather in clouds rising up and up. The wind stops to catch it’s breath and these glowing embers fall to the river. The water does not extinguish the flame and now the river flows like molten gold.
A fly cast upon these waters can not find passage into the depths with the surface on fire. I sit to watch and photograph with my mind, burning the image into memory. Film can not capture this moment, only my eyes and heart. It is truly a wonder of the season and of this place.