Rain is in the forecast for tomorrow. We are hoping to fully experience our first thunderstorm on the banks of the St. Lawrence then. But for today, today was dedicated to re-visiting heaven on earth.
The path to heaven doesn't give away its secrets. At the beginning, it looks like any other sandy path leading into the woods.
We had a few discussions about this forest. Was it logged? Did it originally burn and then all of these similar-aged trees grew from the ashes? Whatever the case, it is beautiful.
The sandy path gave way to a narrow boardwalk. There were very few birds out this morning. The odd chickadee and a bluejay or two.
Signs of fall could be seen here and there. We had to stay on the boardwalk for a couple of reasons: we didn't want to get wet feet and we didn't want to destroy the sensitive vegetation. So, zooming to see yellow ferns was in order.
Some of the beauty was easy to see and photograph. There is something so comforting about sphagnum moss. It's like the Creator used a cake decorating nozzle and spewed out green mosses in a regular design. I love repetition of patterns.
The mosses made their way into openings in the wooded areas. It felt timeless to me. Chances are this looked the same 200 years ago and if we keep up our preservation efforts, it will be here for our great-great grandchildren to benefit from.
It's always nice to have someone wearing red in places like this.
And other photographers who appreciate taking time to explore and discover the beauty of the bog.
Our sponsor today is the feel of tamarack needles. Really the wrong word for them. They could be called tamarack thin feathers. They are so so soft!
The last time we visited this place, la Grande Tourbière de Villeroy could be 5 or 6 years ago. I often think about it. A painting of what I saw then, between the planks in the boardwalk, hangs in our living room.
Today, even more vegetation was squeezing together to have its day in the sun.
Everyone joined in the fun of spotting interesting specimens.
When Ted started paying attention to these wonky looking spruce trees, he figured they could be climbed and cut for Christmas trees. What do you think?
At first I thought this might be a late cranberry flower. The last one of the season. One remaining flower just for us! Google tells me that it is a Kalmia Polifolia or Bog Laurel. the flower is the size of the end of your little finger.
Dave found some Pitcher plants. My images of Pitcher-plants-in-heaven won't be as wonderful as Dave's. So, I'll leave you with a picture-of-a photographer-photographing-pitcher-plants.
Cranberries are ripening now.
As we gained elevation leaving the bog, the vegetation changed completely. No more sphagnum mosses. We were now on ancient sand dunes from the edge of what used to be the Champlain Sea. Ten thousand years ago the bog was under water. What will be here 10,000 years from now?
The path led us to another former dune that is covered with trees.
And, under one of those trees a mushroom was being sheltered.
Other mushrooms looked like they'd joined forces to make their way.
And others simply worked at looking beautiful.
So glad the lady with the red coat insisted we take this trip together. We're only ⅓ of the way through it and we've already been to heaven.
🍁
There Will Come Soft Rains (War Time) There will come soft rains and the smell of the ground, And swallows circling with their shimmering sound; And frogs in the pools singing at night, And wild plum trees in tremulous white, Robins will wear their feathery fire Whistling their whims on a low fence-wire; And not one will know of the war, not one Will care at last when it is done. Not one would mind, neither bird nor tree If mankind perished utterly; And Spring herself, when she woke at dawn, Would scarcely know that we were gone.
There Will Come Soft Rains Sara Teasdale - 1884-1933
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