midday
The oily black-green splashes of spruce and fir , the silvery valance of the aspens , and the ermine of the snow coronal against the puce of protruding peaks in the higher ranges are the only decided colors in mass . Of early mornings the mountain bases in the distances are billows of smoked-pearl mist ; as the light strengthens and the temperature rises , the mist rises with it , dissipating gradually into thin wreaths of dainty rose-pink , faint orange -- and nothingness . In the as yet undisturbed shadows the bold cliffs suggest to the imaginative mind aggregations of uncut crystals ; higher up , where they catch the downward reflected rays of the warming sun , they are amber and wine-colored topazes , and on the ice-capped summits they are scintillant as diamonds . At midday the pure rarified air is a marvel of transparent clarity and everything is as clear cut as a cameo . It is not until late in the afternoon that the great mystery evolves . All of a sudden one is aware of a decided and yet intangible change . Imperceptibly but surely the temperature falls , the quality of light alters , the heat shimmer is no more and a golden radiance replaces the brazen glare of the sun ; into the nostrils steals an indescribable perfume , elusive and infrangible , the brown scent of autumn wafted to the senses on the cool breath of the frozen heights above .