Winter Walks

I'm in my hometown for Christmas, and I've taken a couple of good walks. Yesterday, I drove down to Presque Isle State Park, the 13 mile peninsula that juts out into Lake Erie. I've written about the park before, so I won't do that again. I will say that it's hunting season, so my walk was punctuated by the sound of not so distant gunfire.






I think it's deer season, but as I walked the path along the bay, I saw that the duck blinds were up, but the bay was just full of ducks, so if there was a hunter in the duck blind below, he was missing an opportunity.






I had a good walk. The lake in winter is never a disappointment. On gray days in summer, the lake and the sky almost disappear into each other. The sky is gray-white and the lake is grey-white. When I drive down the hill from my sister's house to the Bayfront Highway on days like that, it's almost like there is no lake at all off in the distance. On a gray winter's day, though, the lake is a dark steel blue--intense and dramatic, even five miles away on that hill. Yesterday the lake was gorgeous.


















Today, I walked from my sister's house up to Wintergreen Gorge Cemetery. I've written about the gorge before, too, so I'll spare you that repeat. The walk up to the cemetery is lovely.
























I love to walk in cemeteries, and Wintergreen Gorge Cemetery is fascinating. The headstones are like little memoirs. People have pictures of things that reflect the hobbies of their deceased loved ones--fishing poles, bowling pins, RVs, square dancers. They list the names of the children left behind, or tell where the person was born or where they served during wartime. Sometimes, they tell a story sbout how the person died, like this one.





Sad story on that stone, but, still, it was a nice spot for a walk.
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