The trees along the bike path (and the road leading to it from our house) stand bare and straight, opening up views of hills and gradual slopes down to the river that were hidden by summer foliage when we first moved into this area. Perhaps I should rephrase that: almost all of the trees stand bare. Every now and then, small trees standing among the skeletal trunks can be seen, still in possession of their leaves. November winds, and the coming and going of heavy snows and driving ice storms since December have bleached the leaves, beaten them thin. On overcast days, the trees appear ghostly and worn, but on sunlit days, they catch the glory of the sun’s rays and shine out gold.