Smoke from the fire in the middle of the woods. Burning colored leaves. Turning them to gray ash. The smell tickles my nose. It’s different from the smell of most fires, no false starters. The light burning bright. The flames stripping the leaves of their pigment, taking on the bright red, orange & yellow for themselves. No roasting marshmallows over this fire, there’s too much smoke! The crackling popping noise of the little flares as they escape from the main flame untamed. Heating up my skin, swaying in the wind.