I've always lived in the West. West Texas, Wyoming, Oklahoma, Alaska, and Arizona to be exact, all different, but similar too, with a certain spare, rugged beauty. I love the West, the wide-open spaces, the rocky landscapes, and the big blue skies. It's only this time of year that I get a little jealous of those of you on the East Coast, because of your trees. Western forests are mostly evergreen, pines or spruces, with some cottonwoods along the creeks and golden aspens high in the mountains, but we don't get the glorious masses of autumn color like the hardwood forests in the east. I see the amazing yellow, red, burgundy, and bronze of oaks and maples in neighbors' yards, so much more luminous than the pictures I've seen of autumn foliage, and can only imagine a whole forest of rich, glowing leaves in so many different shades. Someday, I'll visit New England in the autumn and see it for myself. In the meantime, I try to make up for the lack of outdoor au