Before the Storm

Well, we're supposed to get walloped with a double-whammy of a storm in a couple of days:  Hurricane Sandy joining forces with a big nor'easter to slam us with lashing wind and rain and possibly sleet and snow.  Sounds bad.  There will probably be power outages all over the Northeast.  So did I spend today making preparations to ride out the storm and its aftermath?  No, I did not.  Instead, I spent the day chasing after what's left of autumn's colorful foliage, since this storm will most likely strip all the trees of whatever leaves still remain.  The winters here are long and dark and dreary.  Gotta soak up that gorgeous color while we can.

As it happened, my friend Sue and I had already planned to visit our favorite bog this week, so that's where we met to start the day today.  Low, dense clouds darkened the sky and shrouded the mountains from view, but here in the bog the Tamaracks filled the air with a golden glow, as if the sun were hiding out in here until the clouds cleared.  A ruby carpet of Sphagnum was dotted with dancing  puffs of Cottongrass,  bobbing and swaying on long thin stalks, in constant motion, even when there was no breeze.

Whatever scarlet leaves still clung to the Highbush Blueberry shrubs were reaching skyward, like tongues of flame.

Bog Rosemary leaves had changed from their soft blue-green to knock-your-eye-out red.

The masses of Leatherleaf shrubs were a marvelous mix of red and green, providing a beautiful foil for the Tamarack's golden boughs.

This little mushroom, too, held a rosy glow, tucked in among cordovan Sphagnum and touched by a slender stem of Large Cranberry.

 After walking about in the bog for an hour or so, and then later exploring the woods and rocks around the site of the original Ft. William Henry on the southern shore of Lake George,  Sue had to leave to get ready for work, but I still had the rest of the day to chase after the remnants of autumn.  I decided to drive up the western shore of Lake George to Hague, then take Rte. 8 west through the mountains to Brant Lake,  and then take the Northway home.  Everywhere I looked along the road I was met with beautiful vistas.

I stopped in Bolton Landing for lunch, then walked down to the public beach to view the lake and the mountains.

The day continued cloudy and dark, but Lake George is gorgeous whatever the weather.

Continuing north toward Hague, I remembered a waterfall off in the woods that my son had taken me to many years ago.  I wondered if I could still find it, so I stopped in a parking area near Tongue Mountain and set off into the woods.  It wasn't hard to find at all; I simply followed the sound of rushing water.

Just south of Hague is a road that leads down to Silver Bay, a historic retreat center now operated by the YMCA.  I didn't stop at the center today, but enjoyed the rustic beauty of the road itself.

Not to mention the beauty of the lake views visible from the road.

The trees near Lake George still held many more of their colorful leaves than did the trees in the mountains I passed through to reach Brant Lake.  At Brant Lake, most of the forest colors were muted, except for a few explosions of gold I could see on the hillsides across the lake.

Just beyond Brant Lake is the hamlet of Horicon, whose most distinctive landmark is this tiny stone library that's built out into the water.  Picturesque, indeed, but I would think all that dampness would not be good for the books.

Another pretty building in Horicon is this sweet little church, which used to serve a Catholic congregation but which is now for sale.  I was enchanted by its beautiful windows.

Despite the frost we had a couple of weeks ago, I found a few flowers still bravely blooming at various sites I visited today.  This pretty Herb Robert was growing in the rocks that lined the Warren County Bike Path near Lake George.

Great Lobelia added its intense blue to a still blooming flowerbed on the beach at Bolton Landing.

Bright yellow Dandelions starred the grass near the public beach at Lake George.  Renowned as one of the first flowers to bloom in the spring, this sturdy little weed will again set bloom when the daylight hours in fall are similar to the length of days when Dandelions bloom in spring.

The Bog in Autumn

November 2, All Soul's Day, the Day of the Dead.  But it wasn't at all a dismal day, what with the brilliant sunshine and bright blue sky, a frosty morning with the promise of warmth to come.  We couldn't have had a nicer day, Sue and I, to revisit our favorite bog near Lake George, to see how the typical bog plants there were changing with autumn's chill.  So we pulled on our rubber bog-trompers, pushed through a hedge, and headed out across the sphagnum mat, surrounded on all sides by plants of spectacular color.

I don't think I've ever seen Winterberry so abundant or so vividly colored.

The Tamaracks' golden glow was intensified in early morning sun.

Just looking at all that gorgeous color brought big smiles to our faces.  I would say that Sue looks very happy to be here.

The fluffy tufts of Cottongrass looked as if they were floating above the bog mat as they swayed and bobbed on their slender stems.

The predominant plant of this particular bog is Leatherleaf, which, this time of year, carpets the ground with colors like stained glass.

Blueberry leaves with the sun behind them resembled tongues of flame.

One leaf in particular caught the sunlight and glowed like a Christmas light.

Down close to the sphagnum mat, ripe cranberries dangled like tiny Japanese lanterns.

Where sunshine had not yet reached the ground,  ruby-red sphagnum was sparkling with frosty ice crystals, as was this little brown leaf, edged with rime.

Although frozen solid, this pretty pink mushroom retained its distinctive color.

An orange jelly fungus had found a home in an old sawn log now covered with moss and lichens.

The Tamaracks and Black Spruces of the bog were veritable lichen farms, their branches festooned with beard lichens, mostly, but Sue found this one carnation-like clump of ruffly lichen, its pale green "petals" outlined with a darker hue.  Very pretty.

This Bartonia was quite a surprise find, a tiny plant hiding out in the grass.  Not very common to begin with, it's a miracle we ever saw it.  Although dried out now and gone to seed, it actually looks pretty much the same as when it was newly in bloom with minute yellow flowers that barely emerge from its sepals.  The five-angled stem is what clinched the ID.

After walking about the bog for an hour or so, sinking up to our ankles at times in the ice-crystalled  moss, our rubber-booted feet began to feel too cold for comfort.  So we headed back to our car, changed into our shoes, and stopped off for a walk at nearby Lake George.

Its surface unmarred by the roaring speedboats of summer,  the lake today was as lovely and serene as a lake could be, dotted with islands and surrounded by mountains that merged with the blue of the sky.

Walking along the beach, we were enjoying the ripples of golden light cast on the sandy bottom, when we stopped to puzzle over this anomalous commotion in the water.  After watching its upwelling motion for a while, we decided it must be a spring.

Here's an apt image to mark the Day of the Dead.  In a nearby park, we found an abundant patch of Partridgeberry with its glossy red fruits and dainty evergreen leaves.  As I knelt to take this photo, I was surprised to find the dried remains of several millipedes curled among the leaves.

Even more surprising was finding this sprightly Dandelion.  In fact, we saw a good number of these sunny yellow blooms starring the green grass of a lawn.  Considered a quintessential spring flower, the Dandelion will often bloom again in autumn, when the length of the day equals that of early spring.  As winter's dark and cold begin to descend, it's nice to have this little reminder that spring will again return.