Notes
Late Autumn brings a penetrating stillness to the monkeys' home. Sure, a few obstinate leaves remain among the naked branches to rustle in the wind, but those which have fallen sparkle silently under the dense morning frost. The days start with dense orange fog lit by the early morning sun and clinging to the valleys, marred only by occasional shadows from deer herds that mysteriously appear and disappear. The birds have gone for the season and the chipmunks have gone into their trees and caves with their bellies and homes full of acorns. Butterflies, moths and tent worms have all vanished from the scene. The monkeys escape to deeper parts in their caves and only come out when necessary. The forests take on a dirty skeletal appearance, as if a monument to wicked and ancient sentries broken by the years haunting the hills. On occasion, steely cloud fill the skies and may drop frigid drops or icy flakes. But mostly, as Winter arrives, the forests lay down to sleep.