Last Gasp of Summer Weather

We've had positively glorious weather this weekend!  It's felt like summertime during the sun-drenched days.  In between all the Super Dirt Week events (yes, I confess it, dirt track racing is my guilty pleasure) we managed to get in a brief photography trip Saturday morning.

We went to a place called Trenton Falls, which is just north of Utica near the junction of Routes 12 and 28.  Trenton Falls are on privately owned land, and are only open to the public a couple of weekends a year.  My Dad had raved about the place, so my husband and I decided to grab our photographer friend D and take a peek.

It is a lovely spot, with deep gorges and a series of water falls.  In autumn, there isn't much water coming over the falls - I imagine they would be much more impressive during spring runoff.  I gather the area was historically popular, with the signs showing quite a number of old photographs and prints of the falls.

Unfortunately, it was SO sunny on Saturday, and the sun was at the wrong angles, so getting good photos of the falls themselves was a bit tough.  On the other hand, all the sunlight made for some positively luminous fall leaf photos.

There are a few other nice little tidbits at Trenton Falls, including a sweet little overgrown cemetery enclosed by an ornate wrought iron fence, old industrial, concrete cradles that used to support a giant water pipe, and an old barn with some character.  All told, those little extras provided me with the type of photography opportunities I relish - a mix of nature and decaying human construction.

Here are my favorite shots:

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It just isn't fall without a woolly bear

I have always, always had a major thing for woolly bear caterpillars, a.k.a. Isabella Tiger Moth larvae, or Pyrrharctia isabella.  I simply adore them.  I kept them as "pets" as a kid, and distinctly recall holding a funeral for one that didn't quite survive to mothdom.  Here's me with one of my woolly bear buddies long ago:

I also clearly recall an autumn hike in which I toodled along after my parents and older sister, scooping up every woolly bear I could find and dropping it into the hood of my jacket.  I had them everywhere by the end of that walk - dozens of them.

Even now, every fall I spend most of my hikes subconsciously scanning for them in hopes of being able to spend a few minutes with one bumping over my knuckles.  I drive around in fear of squishing one, and in fact am still traumatized by the memory of one fabulous and horrible autumn that produced an incredible crop of woolly bears such that it was impossible to avoid squishing them by the dozens while driving.

I'm not sure why I find them so appealing, but I do.  They seem like gentle little creatures, with such lovely fuzzy stripes.  I remember being so disappointed to learn that the adult moths are a drab brown color.  Folklore has it that you can predict how harsh the upcoming winter will be by the width of the rust-colored stripe:  wide stripe = mild winter, narrow stripe = better make sure the snow shovel is in good working order and you have plenty of stacked wood.

Has this been an acceptable autumn?  Why yes, it has.  This fine specimen allowed me a few minutes of joy at Taughannock Falls:

Aaaawwwww.

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