Is this really November?  Just across the street Amity Creek is roaring, filled to the brim with fast moving water rushing over the rocks on its trip down to Lake Superior.

I love the sound of the waterfall, the natural white noise of nature that I can hear from our house.  And despite the spitting rain, it seems a fine afternoon to walk the trails along Amity Creek following the swollen waters.  Every turn brings a renewed appreciation for the beauty of our neighborhood.  The amazing outdoor wonders that are just outside our door.  The sound of the water fills my ears, drowning out any possible infiltration of human or automobile sounds.  It’s just me and the riverbanks.

And yet, something is amiss here.  This is the time of year the creek should be barely more than a trickle.  I should be looking for ice crystals on the placid thinly coated waters.  Watching my step to avoid slippery patches.  Better yet, gliding over the snow on newly groomed ski trails.

The creek is a pretty good barometer.  There seems to be some kind of confusion in the seasons.  Last spring, the usual daredevil kayakers were stymied by the lack of snow and non-existent run-off.  The creek was so low, none of them dared shoot the falls to plunge into The Deeps. They would love today’s tumultuous waters.

Last I checked, Thanksgiving was still on the calendar for next week.  I just hope I don’t find swimmers at The Deeps when I go for my post-turkey stroll.