Sunrise on the River

I only had forty-five minutes yesterday, to get in a walk.  I was a woman with a mission!  I hurried to a nearby park and jumped out of the car.  Brrrr!  I threw my coat on, grabbed my camera, and hustled into the woods.

It was so dark, my camera didn't want to take good pictures.  I switched it to its "night" setting but  I knew that wouldn't last.  Once the sun decides to come up, it races over the edge of the world.

Two rabbits flashed across my path, only visible by their tails.

Coming into a cleaning, I looked back and saw the sun lighting up the sky with a beautiful display of color.

The river slapped noisily against some downed trees on the shore.  It was either that, or some unseen monster schlepping its way out of the water.  I went with the first idea, and moved on.

I found a new campfire along the trail.  Someone had built rocks up in a half circle to protect their fire from the wind off the river.  A tin cans remained among the ashes.  And mysteriously, a yellow rag hung in the trees.

As I walked back along the shore, that magical moment happened where the day changed from early dawn to daylight.  The river was flooded with a perfect, golden light - the kind that makes all your photographs beautiful!  I rejoiced in the moment.

Rusty Waterfowl

Nature-inspired art always draws my attention (no pun intended).

Here's some I found last week at Lock & Dam 14.

Chasing the bokeh

Among the cattails

Hurrying to cover

Joke's On Me

A bright splash of color in the midst of a sea of green underbrush - what could it be? Determined to find out, I left the footpath and waded into the weeds, keeping my eye on the prize.

"It must be some new, rare flower - growing all alone like that," I thought, as I ignored the fact that most of the understory weeds I was passing through had leaves-of-three.

The closer I got, the brighter the "red blossoms" became.  I couldn't imagine what kind of exotic flower was flourishing there, beckoning to me in that shady, desolate spot.  I mentally cringed at all the poison ivy around me and pressed on.

Finally I found my prize.  Here's what I saw:

The rare paintius fluorenscus!

Yes, the joke was on me.  I had seen something bright and flashy alright - surveyor's marking paint - fluorescent pink!

I went on to find a number of plants that had been spray-painted in the area - mostly isolated weeds here and there, with no rhyme or reason that I could make out.

Eventually I found a few surveyor's ribbons marking this and that.  Something's up at the park, people!  I wonder what it is?

Nick, Duncan & Emma

Walking along a little used path, I noticed a rock up on the right.  There hadn't been any other rocks of this size anywhere along the trail, so it caught my attention.

When I got closer, I realized that this rock had gotten other people's attention too, over the years.

A fellow named Nick noticed it on November. 25, 2001.  How do I know? Because he left his mark, carved deeply into the stone.  That was the Sunday after Thanksgiving that year.  (I looked it up.)

Duncan also walked this trail, in what appears to have been 2009.  His printing in this sandstone is even better than most people's writing on paper.  Just look at that lowercase "n".  It's perfect!  Of course when one embeds their name on such a surface, perhaps they take more care, knowing it will be permanent.

And then Emma came along, on an interesting date.  It was November 11, 2011, which was a Friday.  Seems propitious, somehow:  11-11-11.  Or maybe ominous, depending on how you take it.  Based on the appearance of her handiwork, she seems to have been a bold, bright, happy sort of person.

While I would cringe to see such graffiti in one of our national parks, I could not help but wonder about these three, and the other signatories on this rock.  Were they young people from the nearby neighborhood, out rambling with friends through the autumn woods?  Could they be members of the same family who led succeeding generations to mark the rock on purpose?  I'll probably never know.

Marshy Artwork

Besides the beautiful plants and animals at Nahant Marsh, they also have some of the still life variety, painted on the observation blind.  I don't know who the artist was, but I really like the art.  Here are a couple of closeups.

And here's the big panorama.  How many of these creatures can you name?

(Click on the photo to enlarge it.)

Walk Along the River

Checked out a new trail along the river today, with Hyperion.  We found lots to look at, such as these trees, who have been busy planting their colony out into the river.

Red tree fungi.

These willows have also made their move, taking root in the river.

I liked this little "wreath" of leaves I found on the forest floor.

We came upon this man-made structure.  It was bigger than it looks here.  We wondered if someone meant to light it on fire.  If so, it would have been massive blaze.

As we walked under the shade of the forest, we found that parts of the understory were completely taken over by poison ivy.  Here's a shot of it.  It completely filled my photo screen.

Another manmade structure.  This was right near a recently used fire pit on the shore.  Hyperion figured it must have been a holder for someone's fishing pole.  

I just loved this leaf - the variations in color, and its toothy edges.

Rows of fuzzy green fungi.

Disco balls!

More leaf litter.

Hyperion, holding a lotus pod from last year.

I-74 Bridge

Here is the I-74 bridge.  This picture was taken on a lovely spring night, as I walked along the river parkway on the bike path.  The colors in the sky were gorgeous.

This is a suspension bridge, designed by Ralph Modjeski, who was born in Poland around the time of the Civil War.  He studied under one great bridge builder, and trained many others in his career, and built dozens  of bridges over the major rivers in North America.  This one carries over 77,000 people a day back and forth between Iowa and Illinois.