Asters and Goldenrod

Cornerstone plants for meadows and fields, blooming now when needed, as the days grow short. As RWK asks, why is the world so often beautiful like this when "it could so easily be otherwise.”

Purple and gold.

In other news, dragging a bit after staying up too late watching the debate, and followup. For sure, somebody got their clock cleaned.

Also, I learned how to put cat ladies in their place—Have their pets for dinner.

Off-and-on petite, pretend rain showers.

Sails Off…

…Heliotrope, stuff sorted and stowed, winterization partially completed, though slowed by a leak discovered in the potable water system.

Even putting the boat to bed takes a bit of doing.

Barred owl sounding off in the morning twilight, belted kingfisher busy and loud, lots of flickers flitting through the woods, a few nuthatches sounding like barnyard birds, loons calling after dark.

Art Installation…

…on Highway 540 between Kagawong and Gore Bay across from Manitoulin Cedar Products.

Word has it that this billboard is owned and operated by the owners of the jewelry store in GB. The display changes over time.

Meanwhile, cloudy, windy, and cold; motivation for log splitting and firewood stocking. Probably a fire in the stove tonight.

In The Slings…

…about to be hauled. Before that, a stop at the marina for a pump out—the new head works wonders, but, as usual, was barely used.

Even windier today than yesterday, with weather on the way. Sailing yesterday is beginning to look like a good decision.

After transferring items off the boat, a reprise of our frequent spring boat-break picnic lunches in the shelter above Gore Bay beach.

Why Wait…

…for bad weather? Long range forecast not brilliant, so Heliotrope back to Gore Bay today.

Good workout, with wind gusty and mostly on the nose. Every mile earned. But autumn is advancing, and now we no longer have to factor in the weather. And, challenges are actually fun. (NB: an iPhone camera problem means no relevant photos. )

Quiet Forest…

…once loud with bird call, now just jays, crows, and the occasional nuthatch. Cranes are gathering in stubble fields, but no other noticeable migrations.

The Oven Bird
—Robert Frost

There is a singer everyone has heard,
Loud, a mid-summer and a mid-wood bird,
Who makes the solid tree trunks sound again.
He says that leaves are old and that for flowers
Mid-summer is to spring as one to ten.
He says the early petal-fall is past
When pear and cherry bloom went down in showers
On sunny days a moment overcast;
And comes that other fall we name the fall.
He says the highway dust is over all.
The bird would cease and be as other birds
But that he knows in singing not to sing.
The question that he frames in all but words
Is what to make of a diminished thing.

Well, That’s a Switch

From oppressively warm and muggy, to bright and brisk, by way of a big wind shift, some roaring surf, a few downpours drumming on the metal roof, and a thermometer drop of more than 20 degrees F. (No electrostatic activity however.)

Watched/assisted a new and expensive little Beneteau come into the marina under rather clueless management. Often times there’s more money than brains exhibited in certain activities.