Good Morning Miss Cellanea

The past several weeks have been full of work, and more work,
then throw in some work, and that about sums it up.
Holidays are wonderful but there's a price to be paid besides the Visa bill at the end of them. Starts with W. So I haven't had much time to sit and relax, and go through the photo albums that are so easy to build on the computer! Take the camera, go for a drive, take lots of shots, download, name the file, and then...wait 'til there's a spare hour hanging about.
That would be now! Finally!
So going through the album for September, I remember this day clearly.
A soft, misting September morning.
Quiet. Perfect day to grab the bins, the books, a bun  
and just go.

The Ottawa Valley is a perfect place to ramble. Rolling meadows, roadside streams, very little traffic once you're off the main highway. You can take your time and look to see what the ditches have to offer.

Obviously well used, and right in the middle of a raspberry patch?
It's all about location, location, location.
Just beyond I spy a sure sign that summer is over, and birds of a feather
are making flight plans.

The signs were everywhere on this day. Some less subtle than others.
Obviously, this is where I was meant to stop.

A place to have a little picnic - or catch one if you can.
The area was originally settled in the 1800's, as loggers and farmers and merchants came to the Ottawa Valley in search of the tall stands of timber. It was a tough life, that spared no one. Coming across small family plots overgrown and unkempt is not an everyday event, but nor is it that rare.

This particular road is an old one, and it was likely once an animal trail, 
  that followed the river. It still is rich with life.
The hunted and the hunters dwell here.

They know they're being watched.
By this guy.

While the chickadees hunt juicy little seeds and berries, and
the Great Blue Heron heads to the next fishing hole.

It's all a matter of perspective. Yours. Mine. Theirs.
Life and death. Daily dramas.
Food for thought.