View From the Shore

A perfect morning, quiet waters, nebulous sky and silvery morning light, drifting fog and reeds almost invisible in the day's embrace, maples reddening and aspens turning gold on the far shore of Dalhousie lake in the eastern Ontario highlands.

The rocks and hills away in the distance were merely indistinct smudges on the horizon, and I didn't need to see them or capture them with my lens. I remembered them from other autumns, and I could see them in my mind's eye. For all that, I thought I would capture an image or two anyway.

What more does one need on the trailing edge of a day in late October than this? A heron in the shallows would be grand, a loon or two calling from the center, a paddling of quackers or a skein of geese? Perhaps an eagle or an osprey describing circles in the sky overhead? No, everything that matters is already here.

Foggy October mornings are wonders, complete within themselves, and they have no need of embellishments. It would be an insult to Herself to squander such gifts, to waste time pining for things one wishes were present, but are not. To do such a thing would be rude and thoughtless. It smacks of arrogance and ingratitude. 

Lake in Autumn Stillness

And so it goes... The herons, bitterns and loons have flown south for the winter, and the bay is a quiet place, a gossamer veil of mist floating above the still dark water. Geese and ducks are still in residence, but their enthusiasm is waning by the day, and when they have hoovered up the stubble in local farm fields, they will be gone too.

Hunkered down on my favorite rock with Beau, I think of the great northern divers (loons) calling to each other across the water here a few weeks ago, of the creaky voices of herons standing motionless among the reeds in the shallows at sunset. This place is home, and we are happy to be here, cold and wind notwithstanding.

Most of the trees on the shore are evergreens and do not change colour in autumn, but here and there are flashes of scarlet maple, coppery beech and yellow birch among the dark green cedars, spruces and pines. For the moment, the tamaracks (larches) are holding on to their green needles, but within a few days, they will dazzle in brilliant gold, and it will seem as though all the treasures of the living world are spilled at our feet.

As often as I have witnessed such wonders in this old life, the turning of the Great Wheel from summer toward autumn and the riches on display never cease to amaze me. Hallelujah, the Old Wild Mother has done it again.

View From the Shore

A perfect autumn morning, calm lake waters, nebulous sky and silvery morning light, drifting fog and reeds almost invisible in the day's embrace, maples reddening and aspens going gold on the far shore. The rocks and hills away in the distance were merely indistinct smudges on the horizon, but I didn't need to see them or capture them with my lens. I remembered them from other years, and I could see them in my mind's eye.

What more does one need on the trailing edge of a day on October's closing pages than this? A heron in the shallows would be grand, a loon or two calling from the center, a paddling of quackers or a skein of geese? Perhaps an eagle describing majestic circles in the sky overhead?

No, everything that matters is already here.

October Lake