Most of the lake is edged with broad sandy beaches these days, but in some of the coves the shoreline consists of deep mud. To avoid the treacherous depths of this mud, I moved up close to the tree-shaded banks, which is where I spotted this rotting log. The log's damp and punky wood was paved with green algae and whiskered with the tiny white fungus called Multiclavula mucida.
Multiclavula mucida has the common name of Green-algae Coral, an appropriately descriptive name, since this miniature fungus is always associated with green algae.
Out on the mudflats close to the water I found abundant masses of green leafy plants. Some were the basal rosettes of some species of bittercress that will bloom next spring, but others had flower stalks that still held a few of this year's tiny blooms.
Very tiny blooms, indeed! And some were pink, not the typical blue I usually see on Small-flowered Forget-me-nots (Myosotis laxa), our native Forget-me-not.
There were a few small groups of waterfowl out on the lake, too far away for my poor eyes to discern as to species. But evidence of the birds' presence here on the lake could be seen in the occasional feathers scattered across the mud. I was entranced by the tiny water droplets that clung to this downy plume without actually wetting it.
The day's summery warmth lulled me into forgetting how early the sun slips behind the mountains these days. I was barely half way around the lake when I noticed the darkening shadows, and I picked up my pace as a chill began to creep out from the depth of the woods. But I did slow my steps to take in this view of white birches and the mountain's profile reflected in the dark still water.