Out of the American Southwest, we aimed for the northern woods to witness autumn. Fall in Arizona is much like springtime in Arizona and not too distant from the conditions of winter. To differentiate seasons in the desert, one only needs to consider the temperature. If it’s above 90, you are moving in or out of Summer; everything else is simply the rest of the year. Through our travels and reading, we have come to be aware of the leaf peeper phenomenon. Leaf peeping is the act of venturing into the natural landscape to participate in the act of witnessing foliage change color. It is true we have some deciduous trees changing color in the mountainous areas of Arizona, but those leaves turn yellow, gold, and finally brown. Vibrant reds, vivid oranges, and fluorescent yellows must be seen where an abundance of maples grows. And so it was that we followed our inner geekiness on a pilgrimage to the forests of Wisconsin and Michigan with the hope we might catch prime leaf-peeping season before high winds and a freeze stripped the trees bare.

And so, with the break of dawn and the crazy idea that we should make it to Michigan today, which is about 450 miles away according to the route up U.S. Highway 45 that we’re eyeballing, we’ll have to keep gawking at the sights to a minimum as if that were possible.

Lake Winnebago and the surrounding tributaries were our first stumbling blocks out of the gate. What the photos can’t share is the lovely sound of flocks of geese overhead, heading to warmer climes down south.

Somewhere along the way, we passed through Oshkosh, Wisconsin. This is not Oshkosh.

If this doesn’t sing fall to you, nothing will.

I can assure you that they weren’t speeding, but they might have been gobbling.

This is no longer the City Hall for New London, Wisconsin, on Route 45; I just can’t believe a new building could be cooler than this.

After a couple of teases yesterday, it’s looking ever more promising that the colors we’d hoped for are on big display and that we will not have to worry about finding disappointment.

And then there was this: wtf? Who thinks these are in good taste? From my perspective, they are racist figures, and while I’m well aware that racism is alive and well across the breadth of the United States, I still prefer not to see this; then again, when we are in the South, I just know we’re going to see the rebel flag down that way. Funny how, after World War II, the German government made swastikas and images of Hitler illegal, but we can’t do something like that right here…oh yeah, freedom of speech and all that.

If I were only in Phoenix for a week, the cinderblocks and beige everything would be experienced as an overwhelming scream of conformity, but as I live there month to month, year to year when I can get far away from that sterility, my eyes and senses demand I soak in as many old homes, barns, streams, wooden churches, and unfenced yards as I can.

The desert bakes this scene out of your imagination. The very idea that water just flows in random places and not because it was dammed further upstream or that it’s been raining, but it’s just here boggles the mind.

It seems that a trip for us must now have at least some dirt road; maybe this is one of the key signs of looming perfection.

Many more of these detours, and we won’t be getting to our next destination until it’s good and dark, not that that would be a first.

Getting back on the road…

…only to find another moment of distraction.

Of course, I had to stop to photograph this old Ford truck sinking into the earth and being eaten by the weeds. Gives meaning to Found On Road Dead.

Should you have some kind of PTSD from the leaves of fall because you’ve grown up somewhere you had to clean them away or suffer from some other kind of trauma related to an abundance of leaves, you might want to skip the next days of blogging.

Nature’s fireworks explode right in front of us.

Here we are, entering the Fallison Lake Nature Trail near Boulder Junction because we needed a nice break out of the car, and walking around a lake sounded like a therapeutic jaunt that would stretch these legs.

Wow, curling bark! This is the most beautiful curling bark I think I’ve ever seen.

But John, didn’t you say you had to temper these jaunts else you’d arrive late in that place you are supposed to get to this evening? Yeah, but there’s some nature out here begging us to explore.

Those famous words are coming back…as above, so below.

Mmmm, is that a yummy squirrel snack we spy you noshing on?

Hey, hey, you humans, you got snacks?

This is a human squirrel scurrying through nature, hunting for visual treats. The orange hands are indicative of the female of the species.

Like dirt roads that must be taken, a visit to the forest would be incomplete without mushrooms.

A tree felled by a beaver is certainly not something we see very often. I could stare at those impressions left by the beaver’s teeth for a long time and try to imagine its vigilance in bringing it down one scrape at a time. That’s some serious power put to work in order to harvest dam parts.

It’s almost 14 hours after we left Fond du Lac this morning that we pull up to the kind of motel we want to afford. We’re in Ironwood, Michigan, just across the border from Wisconsin, and Quinn’s is offering us an overnight stay for only $30! We couldn’t resist and couldn’t care less about the condition of the room as long as we had a dry place to sleep.