The walks at the end of summer are a bit bittersweet in many ways. It's the same path I walk throughout the summer and it rarely seems to change. Except it is changing every day.
In these latter days of August I notice there is greater quiet. Fewer cars are parked by their cottages during the week and even on weekends. The properties look lonely, as though they are lying in wait -- not yet locked tightly for the winter, but waiting for the next arrival. Yet, those arrivals seem fewer, further between. Yes, it feels lonelier here.
I see fall pushing its way into August at a breakneck pace on every walk as I look at the roadside weeds. If anything, the walk is lovelier, more colorful. The goldenrod is peaking, bringing bright splotches of deep yellow to the foreground.
The jewel weed of August has burst forth, it's orange blooms dripping from its branches like delicate ornaments.
The bees are having a field day with the Queen Anne's Lace. Or perhaps it is wild carrot or hemlock. Either way, they are consumed by it.
While the lake seems less busy with boats and jet skis, the wild blooms are bursting. Clumps of knapweed add purple to the mix.
And these aster-like blossoms shine like little lights amidst the green.
Berries are popping out on trees.
If one wasn't already convinced that fall is close at hand, one look at an apple tree I see on my walk would be a telltale sign. It is dripping with green apples -- and dropping them, too, offering up a feast for any wildlife that might choose to partake.
There is the errant turning leaf....
...and then this. This should not be happening in mid-August when I took this photo. It just shouldn't.