It seems as if recent winters in my area have been remarkably free of the frozen white compound we call “Snow”. So when we got half a foot of it recently, I went for a walk to reacquaint myself with winter.
The obvious question is this: where did Autumn go?
At the back of my mind is something more elemental.
How do I slow down the passage of time?
Well, this is embarrassing. My last blog post was on August 14: bees hard at work in the blazing sun. Now it’s Thanksgiving. The trees are mostly bare, the ground is mostly covered with leaves. Chilly winds whip dark clouds across the sky, easing from time to time to let woodsmoke tickle the nose. Life is full of turkey anticipation, apple cider wishes, and pumpkin-spice everything. I have just one question:
Where the heck did Summer go?
Deep into the summer, flowers are blooming everywhere. Flowers attract bugs, and bugs attract my camera. As I do every year, I’ve dug out my macro lens and gone tromping through fields and meadows in search of small flying insects to photograph.
Today’s collection features our bee friends, and some other friends that look similar to bees but aren’t.
Recap: Our intrepid band of explorers – Ron, Carol and I – had traversed a slippery, tortuous trail through the dark heart of Enfield Glen. We had passed a couple of large cascades, but were hearing something bigger. Much bigger, and much more ominous.
Then, the bottom dropped out, and we found ourselves staring into the abyss…
It was a soft summer morning in the Finger Lakes, tranquil and warm. On such a day, the warning seemed out of place. Paying it no heed, our little band of adventurers descended into the dark bowels of the Earth – to meet the Devil himself.
I know what you’re thinking. That I am neglecting something in the tale of my trip to upstate New York last summer. Waterfalls, rocks and way too much geology – enough! The region around Ithaca is known as the Finger LAKES, not the Finger GORGES, after all. Something’s missing!
What about the LAKES?
I wouldn’t have called the Finger Lakes Region “mountainous,” though. Not compared to the Adirondacks or the Appalachians. “Rolling hills” is more like it. So where did all these gorges and waterfalls come from?
To find out, I walked through Taughannock Gorge – and back through time.
Expectations. We’ve talked before about the expectations I bring to each new area I visit. How I go to a new place with certain assumptions? Only to find the surroundings have something unexpected to say for themselves?
Last summer brought me to a new region that has been on my bucket list for a while: New York’s Finger Lakes. In lieu of the usual family gathering in Michigan, my cousin and her husband invited me to join their son and daughter-in-law and a close friend for a week at their home in Ithaca, New York. For them it would be a stay-cation; for us, a chance for new adventures in a year where a change of scenery was desperately needed.
The company of family and friends was incentive enough. To further entice me, Becky and Ron promised lots of outdoor activities. Hiking, swimming, kayaking, gorges, waterfalls…
I have been promising Wild Edge readers a Finger Lakes series for weeks. But every time I try to sit down and edit the photos, something else intervenes. From outside my window, the call comes, beckoning – no, demanding.
GO OUTSIDE. BRING YOUR CAMERA. NOT LATER.
I tried, but failed, to resist the siren song of September. October was no different. It’s the trees this time. Changing day-by-day to brilliant gold and crimson. The march of the seasons goes relentlessly on, no matter what. One ignores it at one’s peril.
Once again, I am at Lady Autumn’s command.