|From today's canoe trip on the Thornapple|
A thin blanket of fog hangs low the marsh. Drying cattails, grasses and reeds ascend through the mist. Along the edges, above the grass and reeds, the swamp sumac is now fiery red. Up on the banks the maples and the birches are yellow. The massive oaks, the last turn, show a hint of red. There’s no breeze and the sky is clear. There are fewer birds now, but the mosquitoes are still active. Slowly the sun rises from behind the hardwoods, casting long shadows and burning away the fog and revealing the dark still water. It’s going to be a warm one for October, especially this far north. But such unseasonable weather will not last. Soon, leaves will blanket the ground and swirl on the open water, the shadows will lengthen and remain long throughout the day, and a film of ice will form on the edge of the swamp. Then, one can get a whiff of wood smoke, as I’ll be curled up in front of a fire, snoozing with a book on a chest and a cup of tea by the hearth. It’ll be good, for all creation needs rest.