After last night’s thunderstorm, the day dawned partly cloudy and breezy, so after breakfast we set out to hike one of the longer trail loops that criss-cross south of the lake. These clay soils are greasy after a rain, and I stepped carefully as we crossed numerous creeks and wet rock ledges, not wanting to repeat the bruising fall I’d had back in Virginia. 

I kept an eye out for wildflowers, and was finally rewarded by finding a Jack-in-the-pulpit. I would have missed this entirely, had I not glanced down at just the right time.

I also found this: (identify?)

We returned to camp, muddy but satisfied, in time for a late lunch. 

Later, I sat under the awning, taking it all in: orioles calling back and forth in the canopy, with their piercing whistles; two rose-breasted grosbeaks, who appeared suddenly and disappeared just as quickly; warblers—prothonotary, yellow-rumped, palm—darting busily about in the branches; nuthatches circling a tree trunk, head down; a great crested flycatcher eyeing me from a low bush; veerys searching for tidbits on the forest floor.

A sudden movement nearby made me turn my head: a tufted titmouse had landed on the step and was looking curiously into the camper, where both dogs were sleeping. It fluttered under the camper, but soon returned to perch on the back of the chair next to me. It sidled across the chair toward me, then jumped down onto the arm, cocked its head, and considered me from a distance of perhaps 18 inches. I was paralyzed with delight. We sat eye to eye for a moment or two, then it took off to pursue more profitable activities. I sat with a silly grin on my face for quite some time.