I take my phone and head out for a walk around the lake with the pup.

The air is cool. The wind is high. The sun is radiant.

The pup runs back and forth on the trail. He follows his nose into the woods here, up a hill there. Every so often, he comes to check on me. Every so often, he makes his way to the water for a long cool drink.

I see red, orange, yellow, green, brown. I hear a plop-plop-plop as turtles flop from their perch – tree roots that extend out into the water – into the lake. I smell autumn (I never know how to describe the smell of autumn, but the woods in autumn have their own particular smell). I taste the bitter-sweet flavor of vinegar-honey-water (my occasional breakfast drink) on my tongue. I feel the wild liveliness inspired by the chill and the trees as well as the playful curiosity that my camera inspires.

While I mean to walk around the lake, I find myself mesmerized by the leaves.

I sit or stand in front of first one tree, then another, then another. Watching, with camera and eye, the brisk lively dance of the leaves, the pause between each movement an adagio. Watching, with camera and eye, the play of the light as it sparkles and shimmers through the trees.

It is almost like nature is having one last glorious hurrah before the onset of winter.

As I sit, watching the leaves blow to and fro, I find myself wondering if the purpose of photography, of art, of any practice, is this: to slow us down enough to to see something, to really see something, like we are seeing it for the very first time; and to remind us that life is a collection of moments, and what seems like one small moment can be a glorious and exquisite gift.

Everything I want to say is here, in these photos.

I have been wanting to show you the Upper Peninsula in autumn. Oregon does have beautiful colors, and it is true I have not seen autumn on the East Coast (yet), but I think autumn here is glorious and magnificent. I always have.

I was actually going to do a fall color tour for just this purpose but, on a whim, Atlas and I went on an adventure to find the mouth of the Gratiot River this afternoon. (It’s not very far from my parents’ house, but I had never been there. Apparently it used to require a vehicle with four-wheel drive followed by a hike.) When I saw the trees bursting with color along the way, I decided to take some photos and share them with you.

I had forgotten that the mouth of a river empties into a larger body of water. I thought we were heading to a lazy river. Imagine my surprise when we rounded a corner and saw Lake Superior!

I wandered the shore: collecting rocks, skipping stones, and snapping photos. Atlas tried to escape the stable flies. (As an aside, if you have an idea for keeping flies off dogs that does not involve bug spray, I am all ears.)

On the way home, I stopped at nearly every bend in the road for photos, we passed my parents on the four-wheeler, and then we stopped for ice cream, where I bought Atlas his very own bowl of vanilla ice cream to make up for the flies.

It was a lovely adventure. And I have so much appreciation for the fact that I am here, now, in this season I love and this wild place that I love.

Hello, sand. I wriggle my toes in and around you.

Hello, sun. I turn my face toward you.

Hello, waves. I follow your sound to and fro, to and fro.

Hello, breath. I’ve missed you.

Hello, belly. I feel your clenching and I release you.

Hello, heart. Hello, hello, hello.

Hello, tears. I’ve been waiting for you.

Hello, Beloved Friend. I bow my head and my heart to you.

dear you,

there are many things circling in my mind and heart, but my words are still emerging from the depths.

something is shifting, changing, calling, and so i remain quiet, knowing that i will know what to do and say when it is the right time for me to know what to do and say.

in the meantime, i am sinking further and further into the magic of the lake, and the autumn, and the wild, and the beauty of the night sky.

the northern lights were out last night and i felt their magic and mystery take hold of me. i wished you were here, so you could marvel at their dance with me.

in other news, i have found a new hobby: rock collecting. did you know that there are rocks here that resemble portland in spring? oh my goodness, there are, and they are just glorious. i am like a little kid. (my dad worked at the state park down the road. apparently campsites were littered with rocks when visitors left as children were told, “you’re not taking all those rocks home with you!” i seem to be taking them all home with me.) i need a macro lens so i can capture them properly. also the sand! the sand looks like miniature jewels.

atlas is very happy. well, today he is sick. he is also attached at the hip. but in general, he is happy. he and the kitty are still negotiating a truce, but he loves the wild and the woods and the smells. he has seen a fox and a deer and smelled bear poop and hiked miles and miles and climbed a mountain.

i miss you, you know. i hope you are well. i think of you often, and wish you every blessing.

with love, elizabeth and atlas

“Take the first step in faith. You don’t have to see the whole staircase, just take the first step.”

– Martin Luther King, Jr.

{there is still a day or two to sign up for hope floats. if your heart is whispering yes, i would be honored to have you along, and you will be in good company.}

“In order to see birds it is necessary to become part of the silence.”

– Robert Lynd

{there are still a few days left to sign up for hope floats. if your heart is whispering yes, i will be honored to have you along, and you will be in good company.}

“Rest is not idleness, and to lie sometimes on the grass under trees on a summer’s day, listening to the murmur of the water, or watching the clouds float across the sky, is by no means a waste of time.”

– John Lubbock

{if you enjoy this, you might enjoy hope floats. you can sign up today to receive a daily dose of nourishment every day in october.}

yesterday, the enormity of the change i just made and the speed at which i made it sunk in. i feel wordless, and slightly off-center, and am having trouble connecting to my intuition.

so, i am going to be quiet for a while, as i turn to the things that always bring me back home: time in the woods and by the water, playtime with my camera, meditation, writing in my journal, naps with my beloved pup, and the simple pleasures of good conversation, good books, and good food. (particularly pie. there is a blueberry pie and a strawberry pie in the frig and i could not be happier.)

because i want to reconnect with my deep sense of hope & possibility & wonder, i am going to do a version of hope floats every day on the blog through the end of september. if it calls to you, you can sign up through the end of september.

there will be no time to miss atlas, as he will continue to share photos and stories on his facebook page.

today, i leave you with this thought:

allowing yourself to be vulnerable enough to receive, whether it be support or love or generosity, can be a powerful and beautiful opportunity for inner growth.

may you know that you are supported and held.