So much depends

Today was an ordinary misty October day.  Leaving Sonny’s, where I had breakfast with Babs and Betty Jo, I admired a red wheelbarrow glazed with rain in Chris Szjebach’s garden. It seemed a sign that the day might have poetic possibilities after all.

I piled the dogs and the laundry into the car, and took a little side trip along the Flat Road in search of autumn color.

By the side of the road, we found some of the bird’s nests that Queen Anne’s Lace makes in October.

We stopped for a little visit and a handful of candy corn at Barbara Higgins’ new place, where she’s turned one room into a very inviting salon.

(I’m so lackadaisical about my hair that it doesn’t seem right to tell you that Barbara cuts it, but she does.  Just assume that when it looks good, I’ve been to see her recently, and that when it doesn’t, I haven’t.) 

Finally making our way toward Central Lake, we spotted an eagle – I think. I’ve seen eagles along this stretch of M-88 before, but haven’t had a camera at hand.  Today I had the camera, but the light was flat and all I could see was the silhouette. Maybe it was a hawk soaring above me and swooping down for a closer look, but if it was, it was a very big hawk.

I never seem to go straight to the Wash Basket, do the laundry, and go home. I’m distracted by elk and eagles and cross country teams and a side trip to Bachmann’s . . . . So much depends on the reliability of surprise and the beauty of the ordinary along the way.