Fall in the Carolina Piedmont is characterized by pleasantly warm days and cool nights. With the water still warm from the summer, this leads to steam fog:
We can probably expect more of that as the season progresses.
This Osprey was out early catching breakfast. Mmmmmmmmmm….
“Ok, ready over there? You grab one leg, I’ll grab the other… on three… one… two …”
The seasons are changing. It’s noticeably quieter out on the lake now as migrants are starting to migrate and everyone else is preparing for winter. I’ve seen evidence of this at my backyard feeders too.
We’ve already had the cultural end of summer (Labor Day), today is the astronomical end of summer (the equinox), and even the weather seems to be pushing towards a meteorological end of summer. Some trees are already starting to turn:
The sky was mostly overcast yesterday morning when I was out on the lake, contributing to the feeling of “fall”:
But this morning was bright sun, and some fog hanging over the North Rabon Creek (taken from US76, where I was cycling):
When I got back from taking that picture, a group of jays were squawking up a storm at the house. There was a hawk hanging around and everyone knew about it (sorry, just had the cell phone for this one):
Last week my employer sent me out to the far coast to assist on a project, so I haven’t had a chance to do much photography, or anything else, lately. There is, however, one thing I’d like to share.
I’ve mentioned a couple of recent encounters I’ve had with people who have inspired me by their persistence through what can easily be called tragedy. My Sister caring for her terminally-ill husband, and the cyclists who rode the 62-mile Flight of the Dove pedaling with their hands and arms and who finished before I did. These sorts of stories seem to be all around us.
I had the opportunity to meet a co-worker in person who I had heard was having vision issues. I didn’t realize the extent of the issues: this person now uses a cane and is on track to get a guide dog. And yet, they are still a very capable and valued member of our team. That someone can encounter this kind of life-changing event, and continue to work and, at least in our encounters, seem to not be slowed down by it, is inspiring to me. I’m sure they’re dealing with many resulting issues, but what I see is, again, a perseverance and fortitude that I’m not sure I could ever match. I am encouraged when I see these people successfully dealing problems like this.
Oh, here’s one picture I did get on the trip:
The seasons are starting to change, and it seemed these Geese were practicing their formation for migration. Hint: remember guys, the idea is to get on top of the the wingtip vortex of the bird ahead of you. Really, a lot of these Geese hang around all year, but they probably like to fly anyway:
When I got up to the end of the lake, there was a large flock of Geese there, just hangin’ out. Then a couple of them took off and headed down the lake, maybe to do a little recon, then came back. This one made a nice landing on the water:
I watched them from a comfortable distance for a while, then they decided to move off down the lake. They checked me out while I was watching the parade:
They left the Killdeer, and a bunch of feathers, behind:
When I got back to my launch/recovery point, there was a Heron hanging around, who checked me out as I approached:
I figured she would just take off as I approached the dock, but instead she just waded off, giving me a chance to get a whole lot of pixels on her (click on the picture to check out the full-res version if you want to count the feathers):
And, no, I really don’t know if that bird was a he or she, but I had to pick some sort of pronoun. Some time I’ll write about the limitations of the English Language, or, as some call it, the Anguish Languish.