The scent erupting on the wild lands with the last light of a setting sun, followed by a wisp of air as if the Earth itself sighs with relief the day has passed, is the sweet smell of dusk, a tranquil moment before darkness.
It carries on its breath the perfumes of wild herbs, the fragrances of soil. Droning music, the rush of air through needled pine, rushing over ridges, pouring through coulees resounds .
