One of my most vivid memories is October in the mountains of West Virginia. Is there anything more glorious than the foliage of the sugar maple in mid-October? Even if you don't especially care for their syrup, you thrill at the colors? Especially when made grandiose by a certain slant of sunlight. The shade of a maple is magnificent, although it's root system is extensive and can be gluttonous in sucking the moisture from other plants. Then there are the mounds of leaves to rake. But their nuisance is minor compared to their regal beauty which fades but is never forgotten. It is mostly what comes to mind when I hear my state song, "The West Virginia Hills," written by a New Jersey minister for his wife. Despite being a creation of the Civil War, America's bloodiest conflict, the Mountain State stands proudly against the sky, proclaiming its motto: "Montani Semper Liberi" (mountaineers are always free). There is a bond of kinship between Virginia and West Virginia, since one was part of the other. The two merge in the Appalachians, that ancient and lovely alpine range. There is no spot in the nation more beautiful (in my opinion) than West Virginia, "almost heaven." Especially in October!