Aki and I only see monochromatic birds on this walk down Fish Creek. One fat raven watches us from the pond–side willows. We watch a dull-gray water dipper bop up and down on the beach. From the number of screeches and complaints, I suspect the surrounding spruce trees are full of bald eagles but I only spot one and that, an immature bird, is soon gone.
There are still a few of leaves in fall color but more and more of them drop in every wind gust. We are entering the time where structure and shape will provide all the beauty. Maybe that is why on our walk down creek, I was attracted to a dead-brown alder leaf that hung precariously on a bare twig. It had dropped from its natal tree and twirled on a wind puff to the twig. A small sack of rain clung to the leaf stem, which pointed to the ground. Now on our return, I suspect that a rising wind has blown it away. The same wind raises ripples on the pond and pushes the forest toward winter.