Morning Walk

I was tempted not to go out yesterday, but I knew Osage oranges were ripening on the trees, so out I went.  I'm so glad I did!

Walking to the trailhead I stopped to examine some beautiful leaves.  What did I find clinging to them?  Dozens of box elder bugs!  Normally masses of insects gross me out, but this was actually kind of cool.  They were crowded together, on the undersides of the leaves, probably sheltering from the dew, like campers under a rain fly.

Descending to the creek bottom, I felt my worries and troubles lift off me with each step.  I breathed in the cool morning air, and enjoyed the host of little birds, mostly sparrows, hopping through the meadow grasses and brush.  They were active, but shy, and I took the challenge of trying to photograph them.

Waiting for the full sunrise, one bunch of weeds had an almost luminescent glow to them, and seemed to stand like a candelabra left over from some meadow revelry the night before.

There was a low cobweb factor for pedestrians, with not many strands across the trails, but the spiders had been busy in the dead grasses.  The blossoms there had been replaced in plant after plant with webbing, made more visible than usual by the dew clinging to the filaments.

The dew was also clinging to my bare toes inside my sandals.   Next time I'll throw fashion to the wind and wear socks!

Soon the sun rose over the horizon and lit the east side of the tree tops with golden light.  Standing in the middle of the path, I soaked in the glorious moment, my soul rejoicing.

Approaching the creek, I heard thick movement in the woods on the left.  Glancing into the trees I saw bulky shapes - low to the ground.  What were they?  Fat raccoons?  Stepping quickly toward them, I glimpsed more movement and dark shapes.  The brush swayed.  Suddenly there was a flapping of wings - big wings.  Something lifted off under the low branches, only to disappear again into the brush.  Finally I saw a tall, thin neck, hustling away from me.  They were turkeys!

Now - I've seen turkeys.  I've seen them along roadways, and in our own yard - even on our deck.  But these were the first turkeys I've ever seen in the wild while on a nature  hike.  It was a cool moment!

I scanned the trees to see if I could spot any of them roosting, but no luck.  I then made my way to the creek.  In a playful mood one day, I nicknamed it the Nimrodel, after Tolkien's river.  I love to visit it.  On this day it was low in its rocky bed after summer's drought, and I was able to walk where water flowed last year.

Fall leaves floated on the water's surface, and paw prints adorned the muddy banks.  Here were my raccoon signs.  And they had left behind corn husks - testimony of their last night's dinner.

Tracing the creek bank, I lost all sense of time in the quiet murmur of the water and the shimmering of the red and yellow leaves.

Everywhere I saw signs of fall.  The forest is beginning to shut down.  Leaves are browning and withering.  The greenery on the forest floor is subsiding.  Thistles are fluffing out.  Walnuts blacken and rot.  It was beauty with a hint of melancholy.

Wending my way back, I found what I was looking for.  An Osage orange was lying on the ground.

Looking up, I saw the tree, loaded with bumpy green fruit.  It made me laugh out loud to see how bountiful just one tree could be.  I felt happy knowing that months from now, many of these fruits would be waiting on the forest floor, ready to feed foraging squirrels who will be biding their time until spring.

Finishing my walk, I ascended a wide trail to the more established portion of the park.  A group of joggers were stretching out near the parking lot, getting ready for their run, but my trip was done.  Carrying gold, ruby and emerald gems on my Canon's memory card, I reluctantly made my way back to my car and left the park until another day.