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Grindstone Canyon is tucked away and difficult to find the access to, but after a couple attempts we did.

The sun was bright, but the path was shaded; we walked up the trail to the sound of crickets pulsing like the heartbeat of the canyon itself.

Maple leaves fell softly around us, coloring the trail with their brilliance, and acorns, many with caps still pulled down tight, littered the lower elevation.

Each bend brought a new wonder

such as flame tipped trees,

a view of distant color,

or tattered remnants swaying in the soft breezes like iron sculptures of an artist.

After the sweltering heat of summer, autumn renews me.

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