The hurricane left behind an autumnal chill, dropping the temperature just enough so that the people scurrying around town in the morning bundled in jackets and scarves, the first real layers of the season. We laughed because it was still 70 degrees: in the spring at the same temperature these same people would be eagerly shedding their long pants for summer shorts and swapping their scarves for v-necks, but the excitement now was all for tall boots and pumpkin spice.
The sky was deceptively blue, as though the storm the day before had never happened. The sun cheerily glowed gold through the tulip poplars during my morning run and afterwards, despite the surely muddy conditions, I grabbed my camera and headed to Lake Crabtree to explore the trails.
McCrae and I had hiked a loop trail there a few years ago and McCrae frequently mountain bikes at the park. We expected the water to be high, but it was a bit of a shock to see just how flooded the lake was. The water had crept up past picnic tables and trash cans, swallowing a large grassy field and half a parking lot. Curious onlookers rolled by in cars to gawk at the unusual lake banks while I stood flabbergasted trying to figure out how to capture the scale of all that extra water in a photograph.
Ultimately we stayed off the trails because the flooding was so bad: another reminder that sometimes runs or hikes or whatever outings don't go according to plan, so we just try again the next day. (But hey, I still got my run in elsewhere).