A Fall Climb
We decided to take a different, steeper path than usual this morning at a familiar preserve.
We got off earlier than usual. I always think of Thoreau’s insistence that “Morning brings back the heroic ages.”
After turning off the more level path to climb the face of a steep hill, we looked down at it wistfully. The silvery track of tramped down leaves testified to others who’d taken the road more traveled.
But ahead of us, there was something inspiring about the sun and sky up the hill. All the trees seemed to be pointing to it.
This monster oak was split years ago, presumably by lightning.
“If a tree falls in the woods and nobody hears, does it make a sound?” I’m pretty sure this one did when this shard of it broke off and crashed to earth!
As we climbed higher, we could see a good ways across the valley. There are houses on the hills, though they don’t show well in this photo. I brought my Panasonic Lumix, a bridge camera that’s lightweight and easy to use, but there are some compromises.
Huge oaks populated this trail.
When we came to a turning in this northeastern trail, we were greeted with an unexpected trail marker…
Onward ever onward, through more oaks…
…and then into aspen, and trails of gold.
At the top, we were treated to a lovely view of the hillside as we worked our way back down. Much of the area there is brushy with berries that attracted robins and cedar waxwings. The bushes seemed to quiver and twitter at us, giving us only the briefest glimpses of the birds. Unfortunately the deer ticks liked the area too. We picked several off the dog and hurried on our way.
The descent was steep and slippery, and we paid plenty of attention to the ground. Fortunately, it was interesting and lovely too. Walking alongside a creek bed, we discovered we were, as often happens, being surveilled by a chipmunk.
The path leveled out on the backside of a pond I’ve often photographed from the boardwalk on the other side. (Wait for it…) This side has a different character, darker, with patches of hemlock.
As the pond comes into view, beaver work becomes apparent.
The ground is dotted with stumps.
Crossing a mossy carpet, you come to the pond’s edge.
The beaver’s lodge is to the right, though quite dark and hard to see in this pic.
The water’s edge was interesting, with various mysterious ploppings and ripples, as well as interesting vegetation and perspectives on the pond.
We walked around to the boardwalk, passing more beaver work on the way. Interesting that this trunk appears to have been eaten like we’d eat an ear of corn — rather than chewed only in one spot, so as to cut off a log and haul it away.
“Nothing gold can stay,” the poet says. We’ll enjoy it while we can.
On one side of the boardwalk, this marsh. On the other, the pond I’ve photographed countless times. Curiously, a sign has been added forbidding skating. I guess they’re planning ahead.
One last look back…
…and we headed back to the car. We disturbed a redtail in the process, probably saving one or two of the many chipmunks in this area. I’m sure the hawk was glad to see us go.
