Between Two Rivers

At the Manasquan Reservoir in Howell, NJ.

Yesterday my father and I drove forty minutes south of home to hike the trail around the Manasquan Reservoir. While its name comes from the Lenape term meaning “place for collecting grass and reeds,” the reservoir bore all the signs of fall in Central Jersey: stubbornly green trees, damp sand, and rough wind-worn water. But the wooded trail still made for nice walk, even if Dad and I called it quits about a third of the way through.

One nice thing was the sight of a few fallen leaves, each of which was painted with the season’s cold fire. Here’s a picture of several that I collected and took home (with apologies for my intrusive shadow):

Indeed, these leaves are one reason why I love fall the best: no other time of year makes such a beautiful spectacle out of fire and flame, death and decay.