forest walk

I know, I know, you’ve seen it all. One more blog photo (here or elsewhere) of a splash of orange and you’ll quit blog surfing forever.

(It’s not going to happen. You wont quit.)

But I drove three hundred miles up and three hundred miles down just to walk through Wisconsin's northwoods on a nice autumn day! And so you are going to stare at fall colors here on Ocean, or bust.



Maybe you live in Texas and actually get all misty eyed at the sight of Autumn colors. I never thought I’d say this, but Texans, this post’s for you!

But actually, I did my postings of orange trees yesterday. Today you get a little drama with the dish of dried leaves.

(The drama is not significant drama. A little drama should raise no expectations of me being shot at in the forest or something equally thrilling. Okay, I’ll do the spoiler: we got lost and it rained. It seemed big then…)





The thing is, most people do not get lost in national parkland. The trails are marked. Go this way, you dunce. And then here, come on, follow the little blue diamond like a kid following the crumbs of Hansel & Gretel, come on, deeper and deeper into the forest and suddenly ha ha ha, no markers here anymore ha ha ha.

And so you take the wrong path. Not because you’re stupid. You apply all your fantastic much coveted reasoning skills to the situation and you come up with the wrong answer. Happens all the time, no?

Anyway, take a look at one more.





And then this one, when we came to the lake, looked up and noticed the clouds.




I don’t mind getting wet. I take showers, I dance in summer rains (once I did. You don’t want to hear it. I was young). Wet is okay by me.

But my new camera! The one that put me over the top in credit card debt! It says in the long info booklet which I read cover to cover – do not get the damn thing wet! It says so in ten different languages. I understand the message even in languages that I’m not sure come from any authentic, U.N. recognized country. NO WETNESS EVER! THIS IS A SAHARA (or Gobi or Mojave, whatever your language) LOVIN’ APPARATURE! KEEP IT DRY.

So I huddle with my camera under my tight little shirt (I want to look good there in the forest, for the squirrels and deer, in case they care).

And lo & behold, my camera appears to have survived. My shirt is stretched, every last part of me was wet wet wet, but the camera – she be dry as a desert flower.

(I had to test if she was okay in the end, so here, a photo of leaves. Wet leaves. At least they’re red, not orange. You’re welcome.)