Feet in the sand

Evening on Lake Michigan

I walked to the edge and stepped into the cool, clear water of this great lake—Michigan, where a long sand beach, briefly interrupted by washed rocks along the southern island shoreline, reflected the rosy shades of an evening sun.
And stood looking over its rippled surface to the point where it dissolved into sky--
waves stealing sand from beneath my toes, and replacing it above, until I was planted there--
absorbed into its perfectly sculpted velvet plane.

Kalm's Lobelia

Ladies' Tresses

Between the fading blades of beach grass, there is a delicate blue, barely seen scattered across the dunes feet from shore. Delicate white orchids still catch the last amber rays, though their twisting stems are barely 6 inches tall.



And, as the sun drops deeper into the western horizon, glowing warmly over Hog Island, a calm settles over the water--the shallowest waves still reaching in their cleansing and settling way.
A small sandpiper walks in their wake, scurrying just ahead of my feet, his back strikingly mottled—matching a pattern that could be piles of small stones or pockets of tiny white clam shells.
And stops stepping to look at me.



Until his feet, too, are buried beneath wave-washed sand.

Sanderling, feet buried in sand

photographer on the beach with the little bird

Sunset over Hog Island

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In the midst (SWF)

East Fork Lake
November 2008

East Fork Lake looks different now.
No longer the slumbering giant, lurking beneath last fall’s fog, left one morning as a bitter night dropped its chill onto warmer water, and hurried off toward dawn.

We paddled back, as far as the creek would allow, onto a wide gravel bar, covered densely with water-willow, side to side. The blooms now gone, the leaves stained with mud from summer rains that flood this plain. And after searching for a path across it and finding none deep enough to ride upon, sat to rest in the shade of a sycamore—leaving Red Canoe caught on the rocky bottom, waiting within view.

Across the expanse of water-willow, clear, small pools—constantly refreshed by a layer of rushing water, inches deep, dotted the field of green.
Crayfish scurried ahead of my feet, disappearing backward beneath the flat rocks, until only the scarlet tips of their pincers could be seen.
Small fish snuggled in to my sandals.
And damselflies a brilliant red, darted and dashed, waiting and chasing.
And I with my camera, stood in their midst.

American Water-willow, Justicia americana

American Rubyspot damselfy, Hetaerina americana
male above, female below

Spotted Sandpiper (?)

Double-crested Cormorant

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The Last Song of Summer

Autumn leaves on Lake

A warm October afternoon.
Clear blue sky, sunshine and ever the slightest breeze.
Perfect for canoeing on Caesar Creek Lake.
Even more perfect than one of a summer's day.


The water level is low.
Either in preparation for catching winter runoff or as a result of this season's dryness, this U.S. Army Corps of Engineers flood control project reveals the remnants of the many trees that once covered the banks of Caesar Creek, before the nearly 3000-acre lake was created in the late 1970s.
Navigating between them becomes a sort of slalom course.
Large muddy swirls appear and obscure the bottom, as startled fish scoot from beneath us.

Great Blue Heron in tree

Broad expanses of exposed silt and sand become attractive feeding grounds for herons and migratory shore birds. The broad belly of our red Old Town canoe, barely clearing the shallows-- now, not more than several inches deep.

Killdeer on mud flats, gulls in background

Greater Yellowlegs, Tringa melanoleuca

Yellowlegs with Killdeer, for scale

Cormorants float, neck-deep in blue water, then emerge to sun, wings held high on one of many protruding logs.
Back and forth, in small flocks they fly past us--almost at eye-level.
So close that I can see their orange chins clearly.

Double-crested Cormorant , Phalacrocorax auritus
sunning with out-stretched wings

In the narrowest finger, we paddle on, past shores crawling with late summer brightness.

Morning Glory

Inaccessible to all except canoes and kayaks, this undisturbed water is clearer than the usual murky brown of mid-summer.

Northern Water Snake, Nerodia sipedon

Autumn leaves in clear water

And from the sunny shore, a katydid sings summer's last song.

all photos click to enlarge