Wildersmith on the Gunflint: September 12

Who would have thought that I’d be scribing a weekly news column following my retirement fifteen years ago? Even more remote is the fact I’d still be doing such going on thirteen years later. And likewise, further removed, I’d be heard through the marvels of cyber space and radio waves!
           
Bottom line, this is a personal celebration for having been blessed with a great opportunity to get to know so many wonderful people during this weekly Gunflint journey.  Reporting the goings-on in this marvelous piece of creation has offered many cherished moments. Thanks go out to all the encouraging well-wishers and many who’ve also shared a snippet about life’s happenings out this way.
           
As month nine advances into its second segment, pre-fall enrichment continues. Each passing day presents an advanced image on our landscape canvas. Yes, September is calling!
           
The first Aspen leaves are trickling earthward, fireflies and most butterflies are gone, we’re hunting bears and grouse, white tails are refashioning their coats, moose are becoming amorous, hummingbirds have intensified their nectar stops and I know of one fellow having already put up his deer stand. Yes, September calls!
           
The essence of Gunflint in autumn is unavoidably refreshing! It’s hard for yours truly to fully grasp whether the actual adventure of a seasonal change has seized me, or is it the nostalgic rhythm of color, textures and aromatics that is so uplifting.
             
If one is not in the mood for fall just yet, a trip down any Gunflint back country road during the next couple weeks will have one humming a September Song before you can return to the Trail blacktop. Too bad this bouquet we call fall (Tagwaagin in Ojibwe lore) can’t be bottled up for safe keeping and used during those less than awesome times.
           
Speaking of stashing the essence of fall, many are in the final stages of preserving our north woods wild berry bounty. Gals down the road have been busier than “proverbial beavers,” putting up jar after jar of jams, jellies and fruit flavored salsas.
           
Likewise, canning specialists are boiling up the best of what this cool growing season has yielded from the garden. And, that is not too much I’m told. I see plenty of green tomatoes having to be fried as opposed to making red before frost.
           
Aside from the cold dilemma for domestic gardening, conditions have provided for a wonderful growing season in the natural kingdom. Most trees, of which I can see the tops, have added nearly two foot of new growth. Meanwhile the territory is well into that time when mushrooms of all colors, shapes and sizes are just exploding. I’ve never seen so many varieties in my short time here in the forest.
           
So much for human preparations, as fall unfolds the “wild neighborhood” critters are busy in the stashing mode, too. Rodent varmints frequenting the Wildersmith yard have planted so many seeds I wonder how these nutritional nuggets will ever be found once our white blanket is in place. They must have either terrific smellers or immense memory capacity. 
           
In recent weeks, a colony of snowshoe hares has established a provincial settlement around our place. This is the first time I’ve seen so much hopping activity hereabouts. Chances are their presence could mean some rare Lynx visits when winter’s on deck. Here, kitty, kitty, kitty!
           
I’ve been hearing several stories about the woodchuck populous fattening up on whatever they can find and wherever they can find it, from domestic flowers on household decks to unprotected garden goodies. Guess all creatures of the universe see the light’s been turned on in the winter cabin down the road and we’d better be ready.
           
I’m deep into thinking of winter readiness. I’ve happily finished putting preservative on five property buildings, am contemplating when too shore the boat lift and dock, stacked winter burning debris, whacked weeds for the final time and cut back some of summer's out-of-control undergrowth. And, as the old 1970’s tune from the Carpenters’ declares, “we’ve only just begun.”
           
Keep on hangin’ on, and savor this precious life along the Trail!

(Photo by chotda on Flickr)