As the fall colors begin to fade, our local trumpeter swans remain to squeeze every possible day out of our ice-free season. Docks now begin their long dry land vigil, waiting for the next open water season. Diving rafts pulled out onto last summer’s grass, look out onto misty water, now rapidly cooling as cold air presses any remaining warmth from our lakes. The only blooms now are plastic pin-wheels in wilted flower pots.
Gene R. Stark
A teacher, farmer, trapper, and greenhouse grower. He writes about the outdoors and the people and culture of rural America..