![]() ![]() ![]() Every bough glowed with an orange blaze," yet there is no roar of fire, no heat.įor Dellarobia, who is not religious, who knows that God has better things to do than micromanage her affairs, it is nonetheless a Moses-on-the-mountain, road-to-Damascus moment, and it tells her, albeit in less than biblical detail, how she must live. What she perceives, when the sun emerges and the light shifts, is something of a Technicolor miracle: "Brightness of a new intensity moved up the valley in a rippling wave, like the disturbed surface of a lake. The branches seemed to writhe." She can't quite tell what she's looking at - partly because, out of vanity, she's left her glasses at home. These were evergreen trees, they should be dark, and that wasn't foliage. "Nearly all the forest she could see from here, from valley to ridge, looked altered and pale, the beige of dead leaves. En route, at an overlook, she's seized by the awareness that something is horribly, frighteningly awry. ![]()
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