I was collecting seeds from my zinnias this week, cutting spent heads, tossing them into a paper bag to dry. Slowly processing the loss of summer. Preparing for our long winter.
And then a bit of light, there at my feet, caught my eye.
The nasturium leaves, round and beautiful on their own even before the orange and yellow blossoms peek out, were glowing in the last of the day’s sun.
I stood still and thought how much I wanted to hold onto this moment, this bit of sunlight, these bright colors. How I wanted time to slow down even as, for me, it’s moving faster and faster.
I stood there watching the light on the leaves and blossoms for a few moments and then I did what every photographer does. I ran to the house for a camera.
And that’s why I take so many photographs. It’s to slow time, to help remember the thoughts and feelings of a specific moment. So that later on, when winter is getting old and we haven’t seen the sun in days, I can look at this image and remember the heat on my shoulders and the warmth in my soul.
While I was cat sitting in northern Michigan I considered where to take you on the annual Walktober. I didn’t want to waste the fact that I was in northern Michigan, and you can’t get a better location for a Walktober than that.
Lake Michigan was pulling at me to take you on a beach walk. But many years ago I did exactly that, and if I can find it I’ll add the link to that post here. (You really should go look at it, it was an entirely different sort of day!)
I didn’t want to repeat myself. You might be bored with another walk along the same beach.
Of course back than I and the friend who lives here had wandered north. I could always take you south this year. As I stared at the lake on a warm Saturay morning that seemed like the perfect solution.
Until I got down to the dune above the lake.
A wedding was happening just to the south of me. Sure, I could walk past it. I mean people were actually swimming at the public beach right there. But I didn’t want to infringe on their moment. So I turned north.
After all, that last beachy Walktober was a long time ago. And every beach walk is different, right?
So off I went toward that point just up the way a bit.
I was immediately drawn to a footprint in the damp sand. I thought about how transient our footsteps are. How fleeting our whole lives are.
The waves were already lapping at the footprint, ready to erase it forever. I spent a long time photographing that footprint, wondering who had been there just before me.
There were plenty of other pretty things to photograph along the way. It must have rained the night before, or maybe even just before I left the house.
There were soft little sandy divots everywhere. It looked and felt something like a moon landscape.
It was a beautiful day, the sun was out, the cloudless sky was a deep blue. And on the beach were other signs of beings who had gotten outside to enjoy the day long before I had.
I wondered what kind of little animal had scurried across the beach that morning. And then I wondered what made it decide to go in a different direction.
I kept going straight, along the shore, noticing the way the light bounced off the water…
…and off a railing creating modern art on the beach.
Resting kayaks were waiting for another trip out on the lake this season, and I imagined them glad of the warm fall day, just like I was.
Chairs were waiting patiently for their people to rest and watch another sunset.
But mostly I was watching the water and the sand in front of me as I approached my destination, the point.
The lapping waves, sliding over the sand was making the most beautiful art.
And it had left behind sadly beautiful artifacts too.
And of course there were those footprints, always a step ahead of me, combining with the sand art, moving steadily forward.
As in life, once you reach your destination point you always see another point in the distance. Maybe instead of turning around I should head toward that new point, way up there.
There was bound to be more to see.
But as I got closer to that far away point I noticed someone playing with her dog.
And I thought maybe it was best to leave them be, just as I had let the wedding be. Bookmarked by a dog’s play and a wedding day, I was happy with what I had seen on my Walktober. I hope you enjoyed it too.
Oh…and the footprints… those I had been following on my slow walk north?
The owner of the prints came back toward me and we exchanged pleasantries about what a beautiful day it was and then she continued on her walk heading south toward home.
And I did the same.
There’s still time for you to get a walk in, post about it and link it to the Official Walktober post. I’ll gather them all up and do a recap post in early November. We can’t wait to see where you’ve been!
I spent a week at the beginning of October in Northport Michigan. It was an idyllic week, filled with brilliant blue skies, warm temperatures, aqua water and cats.
On the way, this was the most color I saw all week.
I was there to hang out with a couple of mischievous cats that belong to friends of mine who were taking some time to travel. They were off having fun and I was having fun in their space and with their cats.
A moment of peace before the crazy.
The cats, a boy and a girl, were adorable and I have more pictures of them than the beautiful place I was living.
You’re not looking at me…are you?
I can tell you that cats are as hard to photograph as birds. You see a great image, grab your phone and by then they have moved. Multiple times.
Don’t bother me, I’m hunting.
The best and easiest time to photograph cats is when they’re asleep.
Snoring next to my buddy.
Which, if I’m honest, they did almost as much as they caused mischief.
I like to match my backdrop.
Aside from the cats I also got to enjoy the beautiful area.
Though I didn’t go on long nature walks this trip, I did wander around the village of Northport, looking for color.
Above the road on the way into downtown.
After all, this could be my Walktober, showing you the cute little town of Northport is, right?
Color, color everywhere.
There were plenty of flowers still blooming. I was particularly smitten with these California poppies, blooming away on a corner.
Hanging on into fall.
And the asters were beautiful as well. Purple and pink, blooming in front of storefronts.
Seasonal color.
Though the downtown itself is only a few blocks long I found plenty of interesting stuff to photograph.
Unsure why a skunk, but he demanded to be photographed.
It’s a tiny town, but it’s also a close knit community.
If I liked beer I would have stopped in.
I think it’s probably a town where everybody pretty much knows everybody else. I didn’t talk to anyone during my visit, I just wandered and took pictures.
Not open the day I was wandering or I definitely would have stopped in.
It was so warm it felt like a lovely summer afternoon. There were lots of people out and about, waiting in line for pizza, sitting at outdoor dining areas of restaurants.
Come sit for a minute and enjoy the October sun.
While I got images of most of the village, I know that I missed at least an entire block, as well as the marina. Of course that just gives me an excuse to go back up for another visit soon!
Come on up and sit for awhile!
I hope you enjoyed our short walk through Northport.
When I left, very early on a Tuesday morning (in order to get home in time to attend band rehearsal) it was still dark.
I was taken by the glowing orbs in the trees as I entered town.
I loved the reflections in the puddle.
And then I walked around the darkened streets and caught a few more images of Northport asleep.
Resting before the next round of customers.
I liked doing that as much as I had enjoyed my daylight walk.
Only the witch, the full moon and I were out and about that morning.
I hope you did too.
So..was this my Walktober? I don’t know. There’s another one to show you, but I don’t have the photos ready to go yet. We’ll see.
Meanwhile you still have a couple weeks to do your very own Walktober. Take a walk, a drive, a ride, a hop, skip or jog. Take a photo or two or three, write a post and link it to the official Walktober post (see link above) and I’ll put them all together in one place in early November.
When I see the first junco my heart drops but it also fills. Which seems a thought at odds with itself, doesn’t it?
Dark eyed juncos are only here for the winter months. And they are the first harbingers of winter, so my heart drops. But they are also adorable little round birds, and they will hop around under the feeders all winter, delighting us with their antics. So my heart fills that they’ve chosen my yard again.
No matter that the red winged blackbirds, the sign of spring and summer, are still here eating me out of house and black oiler seed before their trips south. No matter that we had temps approaching 75 degrees F yesterday (23.33 C) and will most likely again today.
Winter is on the way. Proof, a junco arrived today. Time to get out the winter coats, find the snow shovel, and check the antifreeze in the cars.
Welcome Mr. (or Ms.) Junco. I’m glad to see you again, but did you have to arrive so early?
PS: The pictures aren’t in focus. I was a long way away, and this little one popped up on the driveway, almost blending in with the asphalt. Still, I can’t fool myself into thinking it’s a sparrow. Can you?
Every summer we are lucky enough to have orioles visit our feeder. They never stay long enough, many adults leave sometime in mid to late August which seems too early.
This lady serves gormet grape jelly!
The juveniles stick around a couple more weeks, eating the jelly as fast as they can.
What do you mean I have to feed myself?
Even though the youngsters are pretty, I always miss the adults.
You’d think the lady would put a roof over our lunch!
But last year and this year, after quite a long break without seeing any adults, I’ve had adult males and on occassion an adult female stop by the feeder in late August!
You shut up! No YOU shut up!
I’m always excited when, long after I think they’re gone, they show up for a few more days.
I need to grab a snack before those two come back!
I guess they’re fueling up for their trip south to Florida, or Central America. That seems like such a long flight I can’t imagine.
I thought I’d check out the finch food. Not as good as jelly.
And it seems even harder to imagine the youngsters being successful at the trip on their own. I wonder if families reunite once everybody is down there or if once they leave they’re leaving their family forever.
You’re not my mom!
I know they’re gearing up to leave me. But I bought a big jar of jelly this week, hoping they’re around long enough to finish it all.
Change Is Hard 