I stood around photographing the gull for so long that we were practically on a first name basis. I love the way this guy was eying me.
And the same with his buddy the mallard. She's got quite the coy look, don't you think?
He swam up a little bit closer on another day.
And hopped up onto the log to groom on yet another occasion.
"The trees reflected in the river -- they are unconscious of a spiritual world so near to them. So are we." ~ Nathaniel Hawthorne
"No one can see their reflection in running water. It is only in still water that we can see."
"Water reflects not only clouds and trees and cliffs, but all the infinite variations of mind and spirit we bring to it." ~ Sigurd Olson
"One does not meet oneself until one catches the reflection from an eye other than human."
"A reflection on a pool of water does not reveal its depth." ~Unknown Warrior
“Every path has its puddle” ~ Proverb
". . . imagine a puddle waking up one morning and thinking, 'This is an interesting world I find myself in, an interesting hole I find myself in, fits me rather neatly, doesn't it? In fact it fits me staggeringly well, must have been made to have me in it!' This is such a powerful idea that as the sun rises in the sky and the air heats up and as, gradually, the puddle gets smaller and smaller, it's still frantically hanging on to the notion that everything's going to be alright, because this world was meant to have him in it, was built to have him in it; so the moment he disappears catches him rather by surprise. I think this may be something we need to be on the watch out for." ~ Douglas Adams
"Ultimately, our future is like a mirror. Whenever we face it, it always reflects what we left behind." 
This week's top post will make you laugh. It goes to:
A walk in the park. This of course was back when there were at least as many leaves on the trees as on the ground. I'll bet that bench is rarely empty on a fine summer day.
We shopped at a giant flea market. They were enormous fleas and they pulled huge wagons. This is taken from beneath the belly of one of their wagons. The fleas themselves were camera-shy.
We decided to stop at a favourite fishing spot. We didn't bring any rods this time. We were just there to enjoy the sights
Lunchtime brought us to a pleasant restaurant. It was earlier in October, and this simple pumpkin brightened their entrance way. 
Our meal was tasty but it might have had a tendency to create gas. How was that for a segue from lunch to rusty, old gas meters?
Eventually we were on the road back home again. The sunlight seemed to catch the overhead wires in such a way that they appeared to light our way home.
The Mums on my street like to hang out together, sharing tales of how their children have blossomed. They're a colourful group.
As we approach the path which takes us around the park, we see this lovely, grandmotherly pine tree comforting this stray, young maple leaf. Everyone needs a soft place to fall.
Vibrant Spindleberries are always tickled pink about something, and their warmth seems to radiate from within. Well into winter, they hang around with unzipped jackets, displaying their happy orange t-shirts worn underneath.
Some of the more privileged, teens of the neighbourhood, show their colourful outfits off to the less fortunate youths. The wise and kindly matron in the middle gently admonishes them, with a reminder that their good luck could change at any time.
The same girls from across the pond, vainly checking their reflections in the water. 
All summer long, this free spirit with the outstretched leg dips her toes in the water, unconcerned with the burden of her lush, green foliage. But come autumn, she mystifies all who know her by preferring to go barefoot. I'll bring you back here this winter when she dons her fluffy white slippers.
As the sun begins to set, the Willow sways and shivers in the wind, and whispers bedtime stories to the younger trees who gather at her feet.
Neighbouring trees bid one another goodnight, as they settle into their crimson nightshirts. They pull long shadow blankets over themselves and hunker down for the night.
As the sun disappears, this solitary sentinel stands guard over his park. His branches will be the first to greet the morning sun and start the day anew.
What do you suppose this is? A series of rings left by a drippy coffee cup? Crop circles? A game of ring toss played in quicksand? Nah, it's just me messing around with Photoshop again. The original photo isn't textured and it's not sandy in colour - it's blue.
And it's simply the rings created by a handful of cedar bits which Frank threw into a pond.
Edit: Sorry for the mis-introduction, Beth and everyone else. The greatest Thanksgiving story belonged to Cricket's excellent post last week. I used that post as a template for this one and forgot to edit the intro. My apologies, to one and all.
Though many trees were already bare, some still had brilliant colour like this golden beauty. It was late afternoon and the sun bathed the countryside in warm, autumn tones as it showed off some long, lazy shadows.
This might have been a pretty impressive barn at one time but it doesn't appear that it's been in use for a long time. I desaturated some of the colour from this photo - just for fun.
Here's one that's in better shape. Have you figured out by now that I quite like barns?
The gold-drenched fields kept persuading me to keep snapping photos. Every now and then a stark, leafless tree popped up along the landscape for contrast.
Just a couple bales of hay, hanging out together in a farmer's field.
I just loved the brilliant shades of orange and the red door on this shed. You can't beat late-day sunlight.
