3:22 pm

53 degrees Fahrenheit

Cloudy, light rain

The leaves are still falling, though most have come down by now.  The river seems farther up on the bank due to the recent rains.  The wet leaf litter made the walk down slippery.

I drew an event map of my visit this week:

I also took a shot at writing a haiku, although poetry has never been my forte.


Abby’s place by the river

Rest here on this washed up log

Stay, sit and ponder


Though I claim this spot

I am but a visitor

Nature owns this place


You can hear her here

The wind carrying her song

Listen to the breeze


Birds her sentinels,

As I walk down the dirt path

They chirp a warning


My presence now known

I become quiet and wait

to be welcomed in


She is present there

Resting atop the water

Mirroring the sun


With her permission

I breathe deeply the fresh air

Now free to relax


My purpose is pure

A break with reality,

I come to procure


Then with gratitude

Having obtained peace of mind

I stand up and leave



72 degrees Fahrenheit

Breezy, partly cloudy

As I began my descent down the steep bank of the Winooski, I found the the steps slick with fallen leaves.  The towering cottonwoods close to the shore had shed nearly all of their leaves. However, the bright yellow-green of the silver maples persisted, as if in denial of the coming winter.  The  buckthorn had set the underbrush on fire with its dark red leaves.  When the breeze picked up I was caught in a torrent of brown and yellow leaves falling from above.  As I sat perched on my log, the fallen leaves betrayed the presence of chipmunks and squirrels as they darted across the crunchy surface.


One of the large cottonwoods which thrives in the sandy soil, looked as though someone had begun to chop it down and then given up.

As I got closer I saw the marks of a beaver’s teeth in the trunk.  The trunk was went with sap and the wood still yellow, implying a freshly wounded tree, the culprit must have been there recently.

I began looking for other trees that had been gnawed on and saw that a few saplings had wire mesh at their base, probably placed there to protect them from beavers.


My Place


62 degrees Fahrenheit

Breezy, partly cloudy

Salmon hole was not my first choice.  I stumbled upon it by accident after my original site, which I had chosen from google maps without ever visiting it, turned out to be a graveyard.   I then hoped on the number two bus and rode it to Winnoski, I quickly crossed back over the bridge towards my new location.  When I got to Salmon hole I was at my wits end.  It had been a long stressful week and wandering around Burlington was the last thing I wanted to be doing.  However when I got to the trailhead I was immediately met with a cool breeze carrying the smell of fallen leaves.  It washed over me and took me back to cool September Saturday mornings in Pennsylvania, when it’s just starting to cool off and you wake up in a room where the humid air of summer has been replaced by the cool crisp air of the coming fall.  As I trumped down the hillside the papery leaves crunched under my feet.  I settled on a spot on the shore of the Winnoski, and sat down on a dead tree, most likely washed onto the sandy shore during a summer storm.

My vantage point

The vegetation was not all that dense here,  I had a clear view of the sandy shore.  Behind me Cottonwoods stretched tall and their leaves appeared to make up the majority of the dry brown leaves on the shore.  There were also plenty of smaller silver maples on the shore as well as some green ash.  Buckthorn makes up the majority of the understory here.

The leave of a silver maple. Quite a few were growing along the shore so I took a picture so I could find out what species it was