Signs

 

 

I sometimes think summer will last forever, and that these days when afternoon temperatures reach into the 90s will never end. Then . . . I look up, like I did yesterday, only to discover that, in fact, as Bob Dylan put it, "the times they are a-changin" after all. That epiphany came when I noticed the walnuts dropping from this tree, a sure sign that autumn is on the way.

 

Canoe Launches

 

 

 

Afternoon temps finally became comfortable enough again (mid 80s) to put my canoe back in the water. These are a couple of the canoe launches in our area. College Landing (shown above) puts you into College Creek. The motor launch at Chickahominy Riverfront Park (shown below) currently leads you to Gordon Creek. The canoe and kayak launch, which normally puts you into the park's namesake Chickahominy River, is currently undergoing a major overhaul and will not be ready for use again, I was told, until the end of this year.

Both of these estuaries, I suspect, would have been well known to Captain John Smith who helped establish the first permanent English settlement in North America. He might have even traveled on them by canoe himself, from what I've read. Anyway, kind of fun to think about as you are paddling along.

 

Covered Wagon

I stopped to talk to some of Colonial Williamsburg's carriage makers about some of the projects they're working on.

One includes this covered wagon that they've built from scratch. The lumber, they told me, was harvested from forests in central Virginia and hand cut for use by craftsmen here in Colonial Williamsburg's lumber yard.

 

Closeups

 

 

Rose of Sharon

Smooth Oxeye

Bump-outs

 

 

One of the results of the pandemic is a desire on the part of some businesses to make more-or-less permanent the outdoor dining that became popular. Here, for instance, is part of the transformation beginning to take place. Officials are calling it a "bump-out".

 

 

 

What do you think? Would you prefer outdoors or indoors?

 

God-like?!

 

 

 “We know that you are royally blest
Cicada when, among the tree-tops,
You sip some dew and sing your song;
For every single thing is yours
That you survey among the fields
And all the things the woods produce.
The farmers’ constant company,
You damage nothing that is theirs;
Esteemed you are by every human
As the summer’s sweet-voiced prophet.
Muses love you, and Apollo too,
Who’s gifted you with high pitched song.
Old age does nothing that can wear you,
Earth’s sage and song-enamored son;
You suffer not, being flesh-and-blood-less–
A god-like creature, virtually.”

--  Anacreontea

Quiet Pond