I’m standing along the shore at the fishing area at the north end of Lackawanna Lake, facing west with the marsh, and the South Branch of Tunkhannock Creek, just behind me. It is dawn and it is frigging cold, much colder than I expected, much colder than I had dressed for. When I left the house I put on a sweatshirt and my autumn jacket; when I left the house it was just below 40* outside.
Here by the lake it is 28* and I am bundled as tight as possible, jacket zipped to my chin, and I am still shivering. Thank goodness I brought gloves.
There is frost covering the grasses and swaths are already dying. No ice formed on the water; it retains too much of summer’s heat still, hence the dense clouds of fog it’s putting off. In a few more weeks this will become a colorless landscape. At some point the snow will fall and, if I’m lucky enough to get here while it’s fresh, it will be a transformed and staggeringly beautiful landscape. But until then I’m retreating to the Jeep, turning on the heat, and sipping coffee until the sun crests the hill behind me.