This is NOT a story about cooking snakes. Eeewwwwww... We have just returned from a camp weekend. The last weekend before leaves really begin to turn. Summer's grip is failing ever so slightly right now. Like someone suspended from a certain fall, his hand begins to slip away even as the sun still rises high above the clouds everyday and bees buzz to and from the last flowers of the season.
Everything feels slightly more crisp, even though the air can still be heavy mid-day.
The trees, as at this vista over the weekend, are less waxy green, more muted, just waiting to be dressed in their most magnificent red and gold.
The woods is giving way to the Stag now. Preparing for the slow, spiral downward that is the Dark Season. Like most changes in the earth there is a flurry of activity that comes with the instinctual knowledge that something is about to end.
It is the same with us. We covered a great deal of territory this weekend, almost like we were trying to explore as much as we could, get in those memories of the summer of '13 while we still can. We also did what animals are doing and prepped for the cold season to come. We fixed a stove pipe that was long overdue and past the point of even being safe. We spent hours by the campfire and we packed very slowly this morning to make our way home, lingering in the silence of this mountain that will soon be covered with the colors of the dragon's breath. And then with winter's bare, stark whites and greys.
And what would camp be without me having to relocate another little family of woodpile squatters? I found this little guy and five others just like him in our season's wood pile. They were all relocated and so was the wood. Better luck next year little slitherins....
You can see though how small they were - I used an old camp pot to catch them and all but one went willingly to the high grass and woods. The lone "Striker" as we named him, was a bit suspicious of his transport. With his attitude he should do just fine out there in the world. ;)