Postcards From the Lake: A Walk on September 1

We may not technically be into fall, but it certainly is beginning to feel and look like it. Mornings and nights are cooler, sometimes downright cold. And we're beginning to see all the signs in nature too.

 

Not long ago, it was time for Queen Anne's Lace.

 

Those days are past. Now goldenrod lines the road. 

 

And bushes of jewelweed are thick and abundantly flowered.

 

I love the detail on the blooms, so intricate and colorful.

 

On the morning of September 1, I woke to a world draped in fog. This was the view from the house. If wasn't as though you just couldn't see across the lake; you could barely see beyond my neighbor's dock. It was a vast nothingness.

 

It seemed like a good day for a walk, so off I went down the road, in search of nothing in particular and discovering signs of autumn everywhere I looked. Ferns, usually a rich green, have started turning brown.

 

 Berries are beginning to be more prominent. First I saw these red ones.

 

Then, these more neutral ones. But the leaves look the same so are they different or just changing at different times? 

 

My cousin's house is on my path and I needed to bring their trash can back after pick up, so I went out to the beach for a look. The fog was beginning to lift, ever so slightly.

 

The lake has gone down, despite our heavy rains and storm and all the stones that were in the shallows were now on the beach. 

 

 It was so quiet, this weekday morning. No one was around so I did as we did with kids and walked through the back yards and spotted this rock garden. (We call the street side the back yard at the lake and the lakeside is the front.) I think grandchildren may have had a hand in it but it reminded me of the days when my cousin Patty and I would paint rocks all summer long.

 

Continuing down the road, I noticed that the apples hanging from a tree were brown and rotting. . . 

 

. . . and many had already fallen, joining the carpet of acorns from the many oaks.

 

I think these are cedar trees, making their new cones.

 

I stopped for a break at the public beach. By then the fog was lifting even more and everything was in shadow. This building is about three quarters of a mile away. It's now private but used to be the old Arbutus Beach hotel -- or at least on the site. It was almost as though I'd put a film of Vasoline petroleum jelly over the lens. It looked mystical, like a little town rising from the water. 

 

I love watching the gulls at the beach and today they made for interesting photos. 

 

It was almost as though they were suspended in space. 

 

Only when they were on the water could you get any sense of scale. 

Venturing back, I noticed not all gardens had gone to seed. This one was looking quite spectacular.

 

And this is the other side of that one. These people must really work at it!

 

I have always loved this little fence with the hollyhocks!

 

And then I came to this.

 

The first full-on color tree I've seen. I'm definitely not ready. 

 

But it will come, whether I'm ready or not.

 

So, off we go. What lies ahead? Who knows?

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