The ash, boxelder and cotton woods have released their leaves while the aspens are still clinging to their bright yellow ones as if to remind me that fall is not yet over. The oak’s leaves are hardly turning color while the Norway maple refuses to give up its greenery. The grass is turning brown and there are no more bees buzzing around the flowers that now stand dry and brown beneath the young evergreen pines. There are few squirrels here. They do not have much use for the trees that do not provide them with food. Some abandoned bird nests are in the bare branches of the trees.
Today I noticed buckthorn growing along side natural buffer plants and came to the conclusion that it would overrun the entire bank where I now sit with my back against a tree looking across the lake at the Aderondacs. This place is not grand or particularly beautiful. It is not well cared for and that is what makes me see the character, because there is one. It may be rough around the edges and does not invite people to sit on the ground beneath its trees. There is something about this place that I can call mine. As I sit here amongst the scratchy grass and prickly plants and the ant hills I appreciate them. This place is beautiful in an untraditional way. There are no pretty flowers or soft grass. However, it is somewhere that is peaceful and quiet. I can almost see myself in this scrappy park. A sanctuary that can only be found if you are willing to stop and sit without looking at your phone for more than a minute.
