This fall’s colors are extraordinary, rich yet nuanced at the same time. Brilliant yet somber. Blazing yet paced. They make me want to cry.
Instead, I’m planning a trip down the St. Joe River tomorrow morning to drink it all in. Maybe for the last time, since our house is on the market. But certainly for the last time this year. The temperature is predicted to be in the low sixties; but I’ll be on the water in the morning, so it won’t be that warm. Maybe long underwear is in store. Maybe a vest and a sweatshirt.
I think I’ll dress like I do when Earl and I go fishing in upper Saskatchewan the end of July. I always take long underwear and several sweatshirts, so that I can peel a layer or two off as the day progresses.
It takes about two hours to paddle to our house from the public launch about six miles upriver. And every time I’ve done it has been a singular experience. Once the water was so shallow I had difficulty maneuvering, even though a kayak doesn’t need much draft. Another time, the river was so swollen it exceeded its banks and made for an unusually fast current. I arrived at my house in record time.
I’m not sure what tomorrow will bring, other than fireworks of color, compliments of the trees and Mother Nature. The wind is supposed to be between ten and 20 knots, but since I don’t know the direction I’m not sure if it will impede or enhance my paddling abilities. No matter, I’m in it for the beauty of the day. And there could still be a tear or two.
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