I have been waiting for this day for a long time. I drove up to the cabin yesterday, not getting away from home until 11 a.m., with my faithful companion Limo as co-pilot, in a rental truck (to bring up some new chairs) that was half-again as big as the one I had ordered and wanted. When I went to pick it up, the agent informed me that she’d been unable to locate a ten-footer, so they gave me one with a 15-foot bed. When I explained that I’d wanted the smaller one because I’d have to negotiate a heavily-wooded, seriously-curved driveway, she apologized again and actually took 20% off the rental fee. The drive was rather uncomfortable, since the seat doesn’t recline at all, and Limo’s cushion kept sliding off his, but we made it uneventfully and in good time, but it was still after dark when we arrived. I had fun backing into the driveway as far as I dared and unloading my stuff down the majority of the hill. Happily, the weather was clear and calm, though quite chilly, and there were no biting insects.
I was up this morning just a little after 7:30, eager to see the stage of the autumn foliage, and was greeted with an unexpected and very pleasant surprise—a gentle fog had formed and was rendering everything in dramatic pastels and softened details. I knew it wouldn’t last long, so I hastily dressed in yesterday’s clothes, attached Limo’s lead, and scurried out to immerse ourselves in the magic with only my main lens and without the burden of a tripod.
We headed straight down the hill and found the lake perfectly calm. The sun was just climbing over the horizon and was filtering in through the lakeside flora, back-lighting everything its diffuse light could touch and rendering a lovely, soft light on the things it couldn’t.
When the mists on the water began to burn away, we headed back uphill, up the driveway, across the road, and into the path that I’ve carved into the new growth that’s regenerating to replace the hyper-mature forest that we had to have logged earlier in the year because of the alarming increase in deadfalls. The temperature had dropped to freezing overnight and there was an exquisite, light icing of frost on the low plants in the meadow at the start of my new trail. I now wished I had reconsidered leaving the tripod behind, as there was not a hint of breeze, and I had the impression that everything around me was holding its breath, savoring the delicate beauty. I did my best not to disturb the serenity.
We had the better part of an hour before the sun warmed the fog enough that it lifted above the new poplar jungle and rose up toward the crowns of the few trees that are left standing.
Tomorrow I will be exchanging the monster truck for a normal car and will be able to start my excursions into the deeper woods, scouting out the best places to share with my friends when they arrive on Saturday and Sunday for a full week of music, photography, and other fun. More soon!
[Click on each image for higher resolution.]