September Morn 2025

Day 324: A glad, good September Morn to you, my loyal readers! I'm going to postpone my celebration of the day until the Labor Day holidayers have all gone home and the air is less smoky, but my best wishes go out to you and yours. The cornucopia is a symbol of abundance, forever disgorging fruits and nuts no matter how much is drawn from it. If discovered in my garden, its plentitude would be largely gooseberries, blueberries and figs with raspberries and kiwis yet to come. I seem to have found my niche as a grower of fruits, although I fail miserably at vegetables. Still, you can't go wrong with putting fruit by for winter. Those raspberries will be a delicious treat come February.

Tape Loom

Day 315: With September Morn falling smack on Labor Day this year, it was obvious that I wasn't going to be able to celebrate it in the usual fashion, so I did the next best thing: I bought myself a small present. I've been intrigued by tape looms for some time, but was having trouble justifying yet another way to weave bands. Unassailable logic prevailed in the form of "how can I call myself a weaver if I haven't at least tried the method?" This cute modern version of an 18th Century tape loom arrived yesterday. Like many things which are constructed with the bare minimum of functionality in mind, it has its foibles. Winding on the warp was tricky, to say the least. The warp beam only locks into place at one spot, and I found myself wishing I was an octopus with one hand to remove the stopper peg, one to keep tension on the warp, one to keep the warp from unwinding, and two more so I could knot the next colour to the one being discontinued. I'm sure I'll work out a better system after a few more tries! I found it easiest to use a backstrap to hold the woven end, but this meant that I was weaving in much the same way I'd weave on an inkle loom with one hand pushing down or lifting up the warp, as opposed to the proper way to use a tape loom, which is to lift or pull down on the finished tape. Again, an extra set of hands would have been helpful. I doubt I'll do much serious weaving on it, but at least I've learned something new.

September Morn

Day 324: A glad, good September Morn to you, my readers. As most of you know, this personal holiday is second only to Christmas on my calendar. I would normally celebrate it with a hike and, if possible, a restorative dunk in a chilly, isolated alpine tarn, but neither of these options are possible this year. I've decided instead to indulge in take-out from my favourite Chinese restaurant, something I haven't done since covid appeared on the scene four years ago. This has been a strange year, the "down" of losing Tippy counterbalanced with the "up" of Merry's ebullient introduction into the household, and I am happy to be able to say that this September Morn seems poised to lead into better days, at least in some part, and especially if Merry has any say in the matter. His kitten's enthusiasm for life is a joy, if somewhat exhausting on my side of the coin, and he brings me both love and laughter every day. Those things are the best anyone could hope for, are they not? May you also find them in the coming year.

September Morn

Day 323: The leaves are beginning to turn colour. The first true rain has fallen. The sky is blithely grey, and western Washington feels like western Washington again. The Beautiful Month opens with fog and drizzle, and invites me to step into the yard to dance in the coolness, driven to a pleasurable madness only area natives will understand. Too long have we been dry and bright and overly warm: out of sync, out of the norm, longing for shut-in days of Goretex weather. There were puddles in my yard yesterday, and although I didn't do it, I wanted to go outside to walk barefoot in one, to rejoice in mud and the smell of wet grass. A new meteorological cycle begins, and it is a glad, good September Morn!

September Morn

Day 323: A glad, good September Morn to you, my faithful readers! A number of things have lined up to keep me from celebrating the day with my customary physical activities, not the least of which is the fact that it's probably going to be over 90 today. Consequently, I cast about for other ways to commemorate the occasion, and making the first complete ring for the Double Wedding Ring quilt hit the top of the list. Pizza was second, and I'll be picking one up later. Putting the Ring together was facilitated by the Slit 'N Sew templates which create a ring from four blocks. When quilted, the center seams will not be noticeable. I'd made four test blocks to work out any issues, but one I had not anticipated sneaked up and bit me on the bum. I hadn't really looked at the white-on-white background print as carefully as I should have done, and therefore didn't realize that the pattern was directional until I was assembling the third block. "Hang on a mo'," I said. "Something is wrong here. Some of those dashes are vertical and others are horizontal!" I only had to pick out two pieces to fix the error, and was grateful that I hadn't been farther into the project when I caught it. All in all, I think this was a pretty good way to kick off the Beautiful Month. I'll get my annual bath when the weather cools down.

September Morn

Day 323: Although current circumstances leave a lot to be desired, I would like to wish my readers a glad, good September Morn with hopes for brighter days ahead. Already the leaves are beginning to take on their autumn colours as Mother Nature dresses for bed. It's time for her to rest, to gather her resources and replenish her strength, so speak softly in her company. She has spent the summer at her hardest labours: producing, providing, nurturing, and she has more than earned her moment of quiet repose. In the deep of winter, recollect her kindnesses in the forms of beauty and the harvest, and keep her house tidy for when she awakens in the spring.

September Morn

Day 324: September Morn is a personal day of celebration and I should be up in the mountains somewhere, paddling around the border of hypothermia in a chilly alpine tarn to "wash away the dross of humanity," as I put it. But circumstances dictate otherwise in the year of 2020, not that there's any lack of "dross." In fact, if ever I needed that ritual bath, 2020's "dross" is a burden from which I may never be fully cleansed despite the most vigorous scrubbing. Instead, I contented myself with pulling a few weeds from the flower beds and picking tomatoes, delighted that the Nuthatch joined me in the festivities by sounding his "honk" call for the first time in my yard. Across the road, the vine maple is blushing at its crown, always in a hurry to take September into its arms. While halcyon days line up in the forecast for the coming week, I think of Septembers past, spent in utter and absolute solitude in the high country, so blithe and so very different from the solitude demanded by 2020. If I could choose one day in time to repeat throughout eternity, it would be one spent beside the creek where, for twenty-five years running, I spent a week to ten days alone in Elysium, the only sounds the creek's gabbling, the cry of the hawk above my camp and the antiphony of coyote and elk in sunset refrain. Offer me that single day again, and I will give you my remaining years in trade, so does my soul ache for September in that place.

September's Flower

Day 323: A glad, good September Morn to you, dear readers. For those of you new to my posts, today is significant to me personally because it opens the "beautiful month" when mountain meadows put on their fall colours and the Bog Gentians take the blue skies of summer into their hearts to guard it through the coming winter. Of all the flowers of the field, rare or otherwise, Gentiana calycosa holds a top spot on my list of favourites. It is the last flower to come into bloom in the subalpine zone, and obviously one of the most showy. A white variant exists (not a separate species), which sometimes carries a note of grey not often seen in nature. Perhaps that's it's gentle way of reminding us that grey days are coming, to take September and live it to the fullest: hiking, roaming the hills, exploring one last rocky peak for the year. The grey also speaks of frost, soon to deliver its bracing note to our early morning wanderings. There's nothing quite like that early chill to move you along to the next point on your route. So do this, my friends: let September take you to the high country. Go, before the snows fly.

Paddling Tilton Canyon

Day 324: With yesterday being September Morn, I wanted to do something special, and although I'd determined that I wanted it to involve the kayak, when I went to bed Thursday night, I was still undecided as to where to go. Lake St. Clair was out because I'd just gone there recently, and none of our other local lakes is particularly appealing. I kept coming back to one location: Tilton Canyon, but thrifty Scot that I am (read "cheapskate"), the $10 access fee to Ike Kinswa State Park raised my hackles. In the end, the lure of the Tilton won. I mean, it's September Morn, right? That would be my gift-to-self. That said, I was not willing to pay an additional $7 to put in at the boat launch, so I put the 'yak on the cart and dragged it 100 yards through the day-use area.

The beautiful portion of Tilton Canyon is rather short, depending on where you start measuring. The true neck is only about a quarter mile in length, but in that quarter mile, the walls rise straight up and are covered with maidenhair ferns. The canyon is overhung with rich greenery (Big-Leaf Maple, mostly), and it's dark and cool and utterly enchanting. A few small trickles descend from unknown lands above, chuckling unseen in their concealed beds. At one spot, the thin veil of a scattered streamlet drops from the rocks in a hundred tiny rivulets, dashing the river's surface with the force of a torrential rainstorm a foot wide and six feet long. By mid-day, reflected sunlight casts coruscating shadows on the canyon's walls, augmented by the trembling of the maple-leaf canopy. Travelling beyond the upper end of the canyon, the river flattens out so much that navigation is tricky even in a kayak. Eventually, the explorer reaches a point where portage is mandatory. I stop here, not wanting to carry 'yak and gear over 300' of round river rocks to get to the next stretch of flat water.

Because it was September Morn and I felt I needed to serve Ma Nature in some regard, I conducted an invasive plant survey. I was pleased to see that the Japanese Knotweed and Spotted Knapweed noted two years ago has diminished and appears to be under treatment by some unknown agency. Much of the remaining Knotweed had been bent, and much of the Knapweed had been cut to remove the flowering heads. Likewise, I noted far less Buddleia, just a few small plants and one large parent bush. However, a new invader is running rampant: Jewelweed. I did not see it here two years ago; now it covers acres (literally acres!) of riparian land.

Before the day was done, I had paddled nine miles on the Tilton and Cowlitz arms, the two rivers which join to form the greater Cowlitz at Mayfield Lake. I'd found a massive beaver dam, circled several islands and put into port on two (neither much bigger than the floorplan of a modest home). I'd shared the Canyon with a beaver, several ospreys, several herons and a tolerable number of recreational boaters (one of whom bottomed out when he tried to go too far up-river). It's not easy to get away from it all on Labor Day weekend, but I think I managed pretty well.

A Glad, Good September Morn

Day 323: A Glad, Good September Morn to you, my friends! As many (but not all) of you know, this is my personal "holiday," second only to Christmas on my calendar. Traditionally, it is celebrated with a swim (or at least a dunk) in a chilly alpine tarn somewhere, but with this being Labor Day weekend, the celebration will have to be put on hold until it can be performed without the chance of being seen. Instead, I have chosen to bring you the beauty of my garden, just a small bouquet which includes no more than three stems of any given plant species. Believe me, the sacrifice was negligible! Included are two types of Coneflower (Rudbeckia), two Cosmos, Nasturtiums, Lavender, Delphinium, hardy Fuchsia, Snapdragons, Nigella, tall Phlox and a few California Poppies which were in a "wildflower" mix. May your coming year be as bright and festive as these flowers, and may you find joy in the Beautiful Month.

September Morn

Day 324: As my faithful readers may remember, September Morn (September 1) is for me a special day, ranking second only to Christmas. It marks the changing of the seasons on my personal calendar, and opens the Beautiful Month. With the whims of the weather gods dictating, I seldom manage to perform the ritual associated with September Morn on the actual date, and this year took my annual de-stressing ablutions during August with a twenty-minute cold dip in Ghost Lake. Rinsed pure of what I refer to as "the dross of humanity," I am now ready to tackle another year. If possible, I'll have a second dunk in a chilly alpine tarn some time during the month to reinforce the cleansing. I had hoped to take a hike today, and although that's not entirely out of the question, a heavy mass of grey and foreboding cloud is currently hiding the Mountain from view. A little rain won't keep me from enjoying a dinner out at a Chinese restaurant, though!

In honour of September Morn, the photo depicts one of my favourite fall wildflowers, Orange Agoseris (Agoseris aurantiaca). It is usually found in limited numbers in the alpine meadows, and its unfortunate resemblance to the non-native invasive Orange Hawkweed (Hieracium aurantiacum) puts it at risk for well-intentioned but misguided removal. Know your plants before you pull (and don't pull anything in the Park, regardless)!

Kevin's Artichoke

Day 323: First of all, let me wish my readers a glad, good September Morn! It's almost over as I write this, but the sentiment remains valid. September Morn, for those of you who don't know, is a personal holiday second only to Christmas on my calendar. I normally try to observe it by taking a cleansing ceremonial swim in a frigid alpine tarn, but today I spent it instead helping my good friend and supervisor Kevin and his family move into their new house. I only just got home after a long day of shifting boxes which, if not in keeping with my traditional celebration, was nevertheless a good way to honour the day.

As Kevin proudly showed me around property rich with beneficial native plants and pockets of landscaping, we made several discoveries, notably a grapevine lush with sweet seedless green fruits with a pink blush to their skins at the top of three terraces of raised garden beds. On the lowest level, several artichokes had withered on their stems, leaving only one enormous "thistle" head so radiantly purple that the colour did not look natural. This image has not been retouched or processed. Isn't that a beauty?

A Glad, Good September Morn!

Day 336: By the time this goes to press, I should be a few miles up the trail, so I want to take this (scheduled) opportunity to wish my readers a glad, good September Morn! Remember that patience is a virtue, and it will be rewarded when the daily feature resumes on Tuesday.

Strategizing September Morn

Day 335: Tomorrow is the second biggest holiday of my personal calendar. No, I'm not referring to Labor Day, although this year, it coincidentally falls on the same date. I am talking about September Morn. For me, the first of September marks the beginning of the Earth's in-gathering, a time when she pulls her energies together to prepare for the long winter ahead, a time when she guards her children most carefully and tenderly that they might survive.

Those who know me well know that on September Morn (or thereabouts), it is my custom to plunge myself in a cold mountain tarn in a ritual of spiritual renewal, my "annual bath," as it were. It is also an occasion when I like to do something special like go on an adventure or buy myself a present. Often, the day is spent hiking (preferably in solitude). This year, I've already had my bath...two of them, as a matter of fact...and with a busy September schedule staring me in the face, I'm going to have to grab my moment when I can.

Labor Day or not, I have a hike planned for tomorrow. It's a geology project of sorts, tracking down a particular rock formation to examine the amygdules it bears. It's some distance to drive to the trailhead, so I'll be leaving well before the sun starts to cast its blush in the eastern sky. Hopefully, by arriving before sane folk are out of bed, I'll be assured of a parking space. It's tough when September Morn shares the calendar with Labor Day!

September Morn

Day 334: Second only to Christmas on my calendar, September Morn is a day of personal celebration. Today we enter the most beautiful season, a time when Nature puts her energies by for winter, like housewives of old at the canning kettle. Ma Nature has on a fog-trimmed apron, and you can see her oven warming in the dawn. Her hair is done up in a kerchief of clouds as she readies for a day of preservation. Now she works her hardest, storing seeds in her root cellar, bedding nuts and fruit in a mulch of leaves to keep them safe against frost; a busy lady, Ma, and make no mistake. She has a family to feed and knows well how to stock the larder. Join me in rejoicing for September Morn!

Two-Part Part A

Day 304: Take a guess! Take a wild guess what Crow bought herself for an early September Morn present! All I got to bring home today was the two-part paddle, but tomorrow, I'm heading back down to REI to have a cartop rack installed, and then the boat comes home. I thought about holding off until they could order a green one in for me, but with summer running down fast, I decided I could live with red in exchange for more days' paddling time. After researching specs and comparing reviews, I finally settled on a 10-foot Perception Prodigy, a wider and therefore more stable boat than many of the others. I had anticipated paying more for the rack than I did for the kayak, and yes, that's how it worked out. The other major factor I had to consider was weight, and whether or not I'd be able to load it onto the rack without a helper. That also determined what type of rack I'd need to buy.

There's no shortage of flat water here! Within easy drive from home, I hope to set sail on Swofford Pond, Lake Scanewa, Alder Lake, Mineral Lake, Lake Kapowsin and Ohop Lake. It's not the Winged Adventure of my dreams, but now this old pirate's at least got a boat to float!