A few days later, the season’s first snow would fall.
But on this afternoon, it rained. It was a cold rain, and lasted longer than the normal afternoon showers. After the rain, and some fog, the clouds started to break up. By then it was late afternoon, and a walk around town before dinner seemed like a fine idea. The tourist train had departed for the day, taking most of the town’s visitors with it. The cinders on the unpaved streets had a nice crunchy sound under our feet. The late sun was catching the slopes of yellow where the aspen leaves were turning. The scent of woodsmoke hung over a few houses. The wooden footbridges over the unfortunately-named Cement Creek were slick from rain.
And, over at the Masonic Lodge, the signs over the door were broken.