Last year, I watched cherry trees being ripped out and burned from these fields along US 31 North. This summer, dwarf sunflowers bloomed in the same space. These shorter varieties resist tipping over during heavy rainstorms and take up less space. Tall or short, their beauty invites gawking and picture-taking from the roadside.
Neither of these birds is rare, but they are only here during the summer, so sightings are less common. I was deep in the woods somewhere in northwestern Wexford County when I spotted this broad-winged hawk. I’d never seen one before, which made seeing it exciting. On another evening, I was exploring the Lake Dubonnet Trail when I spotted movement in a distant tree. Luckily, when this Red-headed woodpecker flew to a nearby post, I got a better look. It was only the second time I’d seen this striking bird. I lucked out both times.
As the smoke diminished somewhat over last weekend, I headed to the Lakeshore, hoping for a sunset. My first stop was Inspiration Point, where the sky was murky, but at the Glen Lake narrows, the sun was bright and visible. I reached the Dune Climb as the sun sank behind Sleeping Bear. It was eerily quiet, with no one climbing to watch the spectacular view. I proceeded to Empire Beach and found it mostly empty, too. I had my pick of front row parking spots, a rarity on summer evenings. As I listened to the waves rush ashore, it felt wonderful to be outdoors at the water again. But the haze occluded the sun, so all I got was a pink sky.
It resembled fog, but browner. Plus, fog doesn’t smell. Despite the air quality from the Canadian wildfires, I headed out to take pictures. The results reminded me of watercolor, painted in layers with soft edges. Despite the deepening gloom, my catch of the evening was a pair of fawns with their mother.
Deer have been plentiful on my recent drives. I love photographing these beautiful critters, but I’d been hoping to see some fawns, too. Finally, I spotted one with her mother in a distant field. The doe bolted, but the fawn kept grazing. Finally realizing it was alone, the fawn white-tailed it to catch up. So sweet.
Both aspen and birch are self-pruning trees, which means that as the tree grows taller and the lower branches are deprived of sunlight, they atrophy, fall off, and leave dark, oval-shaped scars. Folklore traditions refer to them as the eyes of the forest. People would seek shelter in times of danger, feeling protected by their gaze.
Both stark and lush, it’s a place I frequent often for pictures. I love the habitat with its bell-shaped yellow pond lilies, wild irises, and variety of grasses. And I always find butterflies, birds, and waterfowl. On this visit, I saw a pair of trumpeter swans cruising the tussock sedges. I also caught a huge turkey vulture landing in a birch tree.
