Crossing the island from east to west yesterday, the temperature dropped gradually; on the far side, there was snow, real snow, dry snow, beside the highway and on the trees. Some of the ditches were frozen over.
Back home in the evening, it was still warm, although there was the merest hint of a smell of frost in the air.
Halfway across the island, at the junction of Buttle Lake and Upper Campbell Lake, the dividing lines were clearly drawn.
|From the north side of the bridge; ice feathers on Upper Campbell Lake.|
|A few feet away, looking south; calm water, and sun-warmed weeds on Buttle Lake.|
And here we are, in Campbell River, at the tipping point; is it now winter, or will tomorrow bring more warm autumn rain?
|Buttle Lake heads almost straight south from the highway.|