Friday, 22 September 2023
Waiting for the sun to rise. Note fallen apple limb; smells like cider out there. Didn’t go down to the lake to see how spectacular the sunrise was; I could see orange through the trees, so I think it was rather sensational.
Waiting for the UPS guy to bring the Guru his new phone…and watching the moon. He arrived about ten minutes after I took this; we were not quite in despair. Yay!
Thursday, 21 September 2023
The fog today was dense and lingered, and seemed like it must extend to the oceans, east and west.
I heard droplets falling from the trees for hours, and saw them festooning spiderwebs and asparagus fronds. Aesthetic.
By afternoon, the sunny, clear, and warm conditions made it seem impossible that the morning had been fog-shrouded. It became so dry that I raked leaves under the maple, and now the compost pile is so large that I have too little “green” to temper that amount of “brown.” First world problem.
Tuesday, 19 September 2023
I went out very early this morning, before the fog burned off at all, and before the light increased beyond a hint.
That’s because last night we received a text from ATL friends that they were in Manistique! Were we nearby, they asked. Why, yes! So we arranged to meet them there for b’fast, and so it was. Since they were on a clockwise loop around Lake Michigan, from/to Chicago, we persuaded them to stop by the cottage afterward. Of course, I’d say the highlight was that we took them down to the lake/our beach before sending them on their way to cross The Bridge and head south. They’re doing 200mi/day, very civilized; that pace leaves time for exploring.
Monday, 18 September 2023
As the light increased, looming cloud-cover muted the beauty and I knew the ground fog would not appear. Yet, it was very still, no breeze, so I went to the lake before coffee (again) to see the mirror-lake.
The stillness began over a day ago, so that my new tracks and my old tracks co-existed. That is rare—that no waves erase tracks at the water’s edge in days. [You can’t see it, but the lake is just out of this image, left.]
The rest of the day I was in the cottage or doing outdoor chores nearby or in the field. The ferns by the door a fading, and I clipped some brown fronds, but left others that were merely brownING, as I often find the full pruning saddening…it means autumn and our exit is looming.
Sunday, 17 September 2023
Before I had a chance to fire off the coffee maker, I saw the fog gathering.
I spotted this spider web and looked for more. How could there be none? Yet I saw no more.
I followed the quiet to the beach, and saw the color changing in the sky, but no fog on the water.
Come afternoon, I ventured across the road to the Hunter-Gatherer-Fisher-Farmer’s garden for a bouquet of lettuce. Opening the gate, I spotted this colony of Cladonia cristatella, so lovely with their dramatic red caps ornamenting the top bar.
Saturday, 16 September 2023
Every day is different. Trite, you may be thinking. Also, it’s true.
Friday, 15 September 2023
As the daylight increased and night faded, I looked out the kitchen window and saw these parallel contrails, like etchings against the sky.
Thursday, 14 September 2023
All grass day…. Cut it (using The Beast). Raked it (using an old wooden rake that works much better than the current fan-shaped version). Stacked it. So much grass. Also apples.
Wednesday, 13 September 2023
My photo excursions bracketed the sunny part of the day. Here’s morning light on a cold-stunned insect. It was about 48°F.
And here’s the oblique late-day sun illuminating the woods. Note all the fall color easing in and screening the green.
As you might guess, it was darned pretty all day, sunny and felt warmer than the thermometer indicated. It had the high at 64°F, but, ooh, I love solar gain [under such conditions].
