I can’t help it. I’m saving these up for when I really need them. In March, for example, when there’s practically nothing to look at but mud. While you’re waiting for them to load, you can go make some nice buttered toast.
I will not promise that these are the last of the leaves. I made promises about No More Mushrooms and look what happened to that.
It occurs to me that I have not even been over to Torch Lake. Back later. Um . . . save me some toast?
Posted in: Adventures outdoors, Up North in Michigan
Torch Lake Views 
Fee
October 18, 2010
*passes Gerry some virtual toast and a virtual cinnamon bagel*
Enjoy!
Lovely pictures. Must get outside and take some autumn-y views of the garden.
Gerry
October 18, 2010
Oh thank you! What with the time difference and all the toast and bagel arrived this morning just in time for my breakfast. Excellent treats. I would love to see autumn in your garden. Maybe you’d like to do a guest post? You would be astonished at the number of people in the Township whose families came here from Scotland.
Fee
October 19, 2010
I might be better sticking to commenting … any hint of a spotlight turns me into a shambling, muttering heap of goo! I will try to get some pictures and put them on Flickr, as soon as my hubby brings the camera back from work (I have no idea why it’s even there – must try listening to him now and again!).
Gerry
October 19, 2010
I can see it now . . . Letters from the Weatherman, Letters from Babs, Letters from the Shambling, Muttering Heap of Goo . . . Love it.
Molly
October 18, 2010
I save up leaves for when I need them, too — but in a much lower-tech way. When I’m out for a walk I pick up whatever leaf most captivates me, then I stick it inside a book when I get home. It’s always a lovely surprise to find a leaf inside a book… one that you had forgotten was there. Thanks for the beautiful slideshow.
Molly
Gerry
October 18, 2010
You’re welcome Molly! And thank you for a good suggestion. I have a suspicion I’ve already told this story, but here goes again. When Rob the Firefighter was little we would go outside and look for the very prettiest and brightest leaves we could find, especially red ones. This was quite a trick, as he is red/green/brown colorblind. His gift is recognizing brightness and beauty of pattern. Together we did fine. We’d bring our stash back in the house and arrange the leaves in a pleasing design between sheets of waxed paper. Then I’d iron the sheets together, sealing the leaves inside. We thought these were wonderful objects. We would send them to my mother, who lived in faraway California and was leaf-deprived. She said she thought they were wonderful too. She thought everything Rob did was wonderful. She was right. Thank you for reminding me of all of that this morning. I like to think about it.
Cindy Lou
October 18, 2010
I’m savin’ my pictures, too! It’ll be another 7 months or so before we see leaves on the trees again….?!?!?
When we were little kids growing up in warm, autumnless climates, my grandparents (from the north of Lansing area) would send wax-paper sandwich bags (remember those?) stuffed full of autumn leaves. My folks would bury their noses in them while going on and on about the smell! Being as we had never experienced an autumn, we just thought they were pretty weird. Now I get it – there’s not much better than crunchy, rustly leaves and that wondermous fall smell. OK, OK – maybe toast with fresh jam and getting to share it with you guys would be better, but other than that…. 🙂
Gerry
October 18, 2010
I read this and thought, no, surely we have leaves in April. So I went and looked at the posts from April. No leaves. Some nice blooms in the orchards, but no leaves. Some hangover burrs in the chestnut orchard but no leaves. I guess I have to make the most of the next week or two, say goodbye to the leaves.
I love the rustle–used to especially love the rustle with the sound of acorns rattling along beneath the leaves. That was the sound of Walking Home from School when I was little. Now all the acorns I see are in the woods where the paths are soft. All rustle, no rattle.
giiid
October 18, 2010
Those leaves are withering so artisticly. Lovely photos, and story about collecting and preserving leaves, together with your son.
Gerry
October 18, 2010
Thank you. I always say that about leaves, that they have artistic temperaments. I am glad you liked the story. I like remembering it. You must stop me before I tell it again.
Carsten
October 19, 2010
Your leaves are beautifully colored. I found a single leaf with autumn colors and thought I was in front with the autumn colors. But no no.
Thanks for sharing your memory from Robs childhood. It is a good story that deserves being re-remembered.
Gerry
October 19, 2010
Thank you. We like the leaves a lot. But I would treasure one as much as abundance. There’s something about a brilliant leaf . . .
I’m glad you liked the story. I am trying not to become the person who tells the same story over and over . . . it may be a losing battle.
Anna
October 19, 2010
These are such lovely autumn leaf images. Reminds me of when I was a kid and I used to pick up bright autumn leaves and press them between wax paper.
Gerry
October 19, 2010
Thank you Anna. With all the wax paper leaf pressing that was apparently going on you’d think the stuff would be easier to find in the stores these days, wouldn’t you?
P.j. grath
October 20, 2010
Finally got to see this slide show today. Worth waiting to see!
Gerry
October 20, 2010
I’m glad you liked it! Dialup is a blister, isn’t it?