Northern Southeast Alaska was battered by a muscular Pacific storm yesterday– all eerie light and buffeting wind, with purple-gray swaths of rain hitting Stephens Passage so hard that the ocean water seemed to be jumping up to meet them in mid-air. I walked through the storm to the beach, listening to the wind moan and hiss. Collected these late fruits on the way back. Crabapples are among the few native shrubs here that show any fall color; in yesterday's wind their leaves were spinning on the branches, flashing red and orange, flying through the air like bonfire sparks. Down below, bunchberries hugged the ground, slick with rain.