“There’s a lot of swannage on this lake,” I said to my husband as we descended the steep and twisting path down to Ypsilanti’s Ford Lake. About twenty swans were visible in the portion of the reservoir we could see. It’s an odd little lake, only thirty feet at its deepest, and outstanding at producing lily pads.
“There’s a lot of duckage, too,” I added. “And one egret. It’s hard to tell just how much duckage there is, though. Sometimes, what you see is curled up lily pad leaves, and sometimes, it’s bottom’s up ducks.”
“What kind of duckage is it?” he asked, peering hard at the surface of the water.
“Backlit,” I answered. “It’s always backlit.” When we got closer, we could tell the duckage was of the mallard persuasion. Something odd broke the surface of the water among the lily pads.
“What’s that?” my sweetheart said, pointing. “It moves like a fish.” It was very long, from what we could see of it at and just under the surface.
“An alligator?” I posited. “Or maybe there’s more than one of them?” Just then, a longer section of whatever it was wriggled, ribbonlike, and flashed silver in the sun.
It was a fish, we agreed, and went on to wonder what kind. It seemed to be touching the bottom of the lake—the depth there looked to be just a few inches—at the same time we were seeing its back. We decided it was probably a carp. From the size of it, it looked more like a relative of Nessie’s.
We enjoyed our walk around the lake. The park there has extensive boardwalks beside and over the water. Last time we were there, lo, these many years ago, we saw lots of turtles among the lily pads. We didn’t see any during this visit. It wasn’t really basking weather this time, though a lovely autumn day. The dog had no complaints about lack of turtleage. He seemed happy just to walk in a new place and smell new smells. He’s easy, that way.
We haven’t turned on the heat at our house, yet, but mornings are getting nippy. The outdoor temperature was thirty-nine degrees when I first checked yesterday, and it’s been in the forties several times lately. Many folks have already turned on their heat, but others are holding out for a while, on principle. What the principle is, I’m not entirely sure.
One acquaintance said she wasn’t turning on the furnace till November, and this is something I’ve heard from others, over the years. We’ll see whether or not we’re that tough. This morning and yesterday morning, you could see your breath on the morning walk, and this afternoon, the temperature outside is ten degrees warmer than it is in here.
Elsewhere on the right-time-to-do-something front, decorations are going up around town. Daughter Number Three’s best friend’s house, for instance, is such an extraordinary and lovely celebration of autumn that I encourage people to go out of their way to see it. No one’s been disappointed. That’s one end of the spectrum.
Many places, while lacking D#3’s friend’s artful eye, do well, while exercising some restraint. One such place is Easthaven Animal Hospital. Every autumn for the last few years, Easthaven has added a large, orange B before its name on the outside of the building, and a giant spider on the corner of the roof, becoming Beasthaven for Halloween. It’s seasonal, funny, and not too scary.
Then there are the completely over-the-top decorations, including one off Green Road that features a green monster taller than a two-story house. Actually, it’s just an assumption that the creature’s a monster. Its head is so high in the air that it’s hidden by the maple tree at the curb. Whatever it depicts, it’s exuberant and, no doubt, delights all the little folks who see it.
Off the spectrum entirely is a house I walked past yesterday, which was having its Christmas lights professionally installed. Part of the team was finishing the lights on the house. Others worked on the enormous evergreen next to the house, one man in the lift of a cherry-picker truck and one on the ground advising him. The lights looked great. Who knew the middle of October was time for Christmas lights?
I love that people decorate their domiciles and businesses. It bespeaks a sense of membership in the community and a wish to entertain and delight those who share that community with them, whether those people walk or drive past, or just hear about the decorations. Or, in some cases, spot them from the air.
11 October 2024