Actually, we had a sunny, warm, lovely day until the clouds filled in late in the afternoon. I went down to the beach before that happened. Not much breeze, so the water lapped on the sand rather than pounding the stones.
On the bluff, I found this twisted asparagus. Usually the stems are quite straight.
Nearby I found rose hips, and wondered how sharp their flavor would be. I didn’t sample.
I didn’t actually pick any of these barberry berries.
These, however…what can I say; we got a prolific plum tomato plant by sheer luck.
Early morning sun…has crested trees and is backlighting droplets on squirrel-cage hardware cloth, making them spherical diamonds. Photo doesn’t capture magic.
Late evening sun…shining upstream along the Manistique. Bubbles are natural foam from upstream cedar swamps (chemistry) plus rapids (to stir it up).
Between the two all kinds of things happened (as in rrrrrt (imagine turning wheel of vehicle), change of plans), including my Wally Dinner. I might have called it walleye. Definitely yummy.
Mostly quiet rain today; not a bit of sun. Welcome to autumn.
And a visual mushroom sample, of the colorful ones, not the less flashy boletes.
I don’t know if this is a red one like yesterday, only older, and transitioned to orange/yellow. In any case, it’s also a small one, and embedded in sphagnum moss, unlike yesterday’s.
Yesterday’s blustery continued through the night and all day. Here’s the lake by afternoon. Stirred-up sand and sediments make the water unclear. I have only rarely seen linear foam patterns like this. Not sure what factors produce it. Note the boiling grey sky….
Such a tiny mushroom, and so colorful….
One lingering brown-eyed susan….
We gambled with the weather and headed out to Fayette, an industrial ghost town. These two furnaces (rebuilt, I’m pretty sure) produced over 230K tons of charcoal-iron over 23 years, ending in 1890. This mean the surrounding area was dotted with charcoal kilns to provided fuel for the furnaces (over 80 within 10 miles). In a generation, the forests were gone and so was the operation.
This was the town’s hotel, later called Shelton House. Most of the rooms are on the second floor and the back of the structure has a two-story outhouse, so that roomers did not have to descend or use a chamber pot.
A new industry has come to the Garden Peninsula, just a few miles north of the ghost town—we counted about fifteen wind turbines, all generating on this windy day.
We detoured to the Big Spring on the way back, aka Kitch-iti-kipi. No fishing allowed so there are giant trout. One is that vertical black line at the bottom center of the photo.
A very few sweet peas are blooming this late. (Still no frost yet—shhhh!)
Our super-crop of milkweeds has just a few pods that have ripened enough to open. Most are green like this, and smaller in size.
We crossed this long flat stretch, marred by puddles crossing the road, knowing that the dribbles and currents they carried were waters of the Tahquamenon that evaded the culverts. We drove north, and it almost looks like it’s swamp all the way to Lake Superior; however, if you look closely, you can see the ground does ridge to the north. The swamp will end after maybe a dozen more big puddles.
Eagle’s Nest has changed a little over the years—and almost not at all, simultaneously. The bridge and cabins, yes, they come and go and are modified. The river—this is the Tahquamenon again—looks very much the same as in my oldest memories of this place.
On up in Grand Marais (perhaps a corruption of maré, meaning sea, and transformed into marais, meaning swamp—which there isn’t here on Lake Superior’s shore, at least not a huge one), we once again beheld the Pickle Barrel House (on the National Register, BTW). This was a two-story home with a kitchen in an extension behind, built for Chicago cartoonist William Donahey, who drew The Teenie Weenies. He and his wife used it for a decade at its original location on Sable Lake, then it was moved to town.
Of all things to find in Grand Marais, a food truck! With “burgers” and “taco’s,” I kid you not.
Turning homeward, we looped through the wildlife drive at the Refuge, and found this swan sleeping on one foot. We saw many swans feeding, often with a few ducks? (grebes? coots?) futzing around them. The latter didn’t seem to also be feeding, and we couldn’t figure out what the advantage was of hanging with the swans, close enough to sometimes annoy them.
Two days ago, this mushroom was on the verge of prime. So fungal.
Today, the edges have flipped up and I could see the gills. Or the camera could capture them; I didn’t get my eyes down that far. Thank you, phone-camera.
Oh, and we’re technically in autumn now….
The maple leaves are a-changing. And this one is hosting some insect(?)-zits.
The moon is big and bright, staying visible well into the morning.
Meanwhile, on a burned stump, the turkey tail shelf fungi is at its peak.