We Now Return to our Scheduled Programming...

...or in other words, pleasant photos accompanied by what I fondly hope are equally pleasant words. :)

Yesterday being Sunday, and too cold for comfortable cycling, Mr. M and I set out to explore another segment of the Ice Age Trail on foot. The bit we particularly wanted to walk is closed due to the hunting season, so we sought out a stretch we knew would be open (and safe). It runs along a canal, on the outskirts of a nearby town, and is therefore too close to civilization for any hunting activity.

I sometimes wonder, upon setting out for a walk or a ride, if I'll find anything worth photographing this time. Though the beauty of the countryside never palls for me - I could stare at trees and grasses and sky for hours on end, and still find them endlessly fascinating - I do wonder if my photos ever take on a boring sameness for those who view them. (But I suppose, if you're taking the trouble to read this far, you probably like trees and sky and water as much as I do. So I'll stop asking myself silly questions and get on with the post.)

I hadn't realised quite how cold it is (mid-30s, with wind chills in the 20s). Good thing I'm wearing plenty of layers on this walk. A cold west wind blows without ceasing, and the water is covered by a thin film of ice. Near the start of the trail, a charming bridge spans the canal:

(A little-used road on the far side of the bridge leads to a historic site now closed for the winter.)

No one else is out walking today - the trail is ours alone.

Wild grasses fly like pennants in the stiff breeze:

Which way did the wind go?

That way

Nearby civilization notwithstanding, all it takes are some trees and a trail, and we feel a million miles away from everything. I love that.

Far down the trail, another, older bridge spans the canal:

Mr. M has turned back by this time, and will wait for me in the car. But he doesn't mind if I go a bit further, to where canal and river meet and head out to the open countryside.

Lacy red-twig dogwood, decorated here and there with a wandering leaf, lit up by the westering sun:

This reflection fascinates me:

The reflected tree looks covered with golden leaves, yet the real tree's branches are completely bare. (Dang, why didn't I think to take its photo?) Must be a trick of the ice - either that, or there's a reflected world under the water where spring still holds sway. Should I dive in to find out? I'm sorry to say that my adventuring spirit has shrunk with the cold and I much prefer to head back to the car, where warmth and Mr. M are waiting.

Next I spy some baby leaves sprouting from a fallen branch. Rosy and beautiful, they make a spark of colour in this landscape of brown and buff:

A handsome stand of pine:

And one last shot of the shivery river (technically a canal, but "shivery river" sounds so much nicer):

I'm getting cold just looking at this. What a treat to climb into the warm car, and head back to a warm house. A very good walk - not marked by spectacular beauty, but filled with a quiet loveliness.

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December is just around the corner, and I do hope that soon I'll have some snowy pictures to post. Monday night we're forecast to have a low of 13º - brrr! Good thing we've got the flannel sheets on the bed. (Yep, it's almost winter.)

Thanks for dropping by!  :)

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