Sand Tracks

The sand migrates inland from the lake up onto the road leading to the parking lot. One afternoon, when the sun was at a low angle, I noticed the crisscrossing lines formed by the tire tracks. It's a drawing, really, created in the sand by people in their cars, an ephemeral art installation. Look quickly, before it blows away.

Chocolate Skulls

The chocolate shops in Belgium boast window displays that rival anything you'd see in New York City. I was amazed and amused to see that the chocolatiers have embraced Halloween in a deliciously clever manner. Reflected in the shop's window are the lovely old buildings, some with distinctive stairstep rooflines. They remind me how lucky I was to experience Bruges in October.

Ida Reds

I am a city girl. My apples usually come from the local farmers' market, where they wait, piled up in old wooden crates. Braeburn, Rome, Honeycrisp----I love their names. A trip to an apple orchard is a rare treat. Here we were, near the top of a gentle hill, surrounded by row after row of apple trees. These were Ida Reds, destined for pies. Their round redness is exactly what a child envisions when she picks up a crayon to draw an apple. It seemed impossible for a tree to support such an abundance of apples. More than the birdsong, the colors or the cool breeze, I was aware of the...living-thingness of both the apples and the trees all around me.

Box Elder Bugs

Walking through a community garden at dusk, when colors fade to gray, something orange caught my eye. Box elder bugs huddled on the pods, leaves and stems of a milkweed plant. I looked at the variations between young and mature bugs, all clad in orange and black. Further on, another milkweed plant acted as a second box elder bug condominium. Why only the milkweed plants? In the morning, I checked on the bugs. It was still chilly and they had not yet roused themselves for the day. I've been told that they like to come into people's homes in large numbers. Perhaps we need more milkweed condos.

Flip Flop In the Middle of the Road

There it was, almost invisible because the pattern of its sole so closely resembled the road itself. I had already been looking at the wavy tarred lines, transfixed by their remarkable patterns. I almost tripped on the flip flop. How did it end up in the middle of the road? Could a person walk along and not notice that they had walked out of one shoe? Shall we just not question it and accept that this is this is a sign that summer has gone for good?