In mid September we took our lunch and headed up into the mountains for the afternoon. My heart was happy. There was a beautiful garden growing by the side of the forest service road. Bright red Indian Paintbrush stood out among the beautiful St. John's Wort, overlooked by perfect spires of Fireweed. St. John's Wort isn't really anything to speak of by itself, but if it wasn't there, this garden wouldn't have looked sparse The abundant yellow was there to make the red and pink look good, and it sure looked good to my eyes. Down in the valley, everything was dry; the wildflowers were finished months ago. Our shady forest trail was hiding some late summer treats for us. The Huckleberries were abundant. None of us could resist picking them, and even though I wanted to take some home to make pancakes or jam, I ate every berry I picked. We thought we were alone in the forest. We hadn't seen a single car once we drove up out of the valley. We were s