Kinross Creek went dry for about six weeks this summer but with the longer nights and recent rains in October, the creek is trickling again and, for the first time ever, filling up Ali’s pond.

Happy Birthday, Ali! The little semicircle of stones gathered nearby are catching the creek nicely to form your new pond — a stone smile in the forest.

It was cold and windy on the walk over this morning. Canada Geese mingled with mallard ducks in a protected arm of Minden Lake. The geese will fly south soon. Some mallards might stay the winter in open waters, near the rapids.

The local farmer has brought his cattle back from summer pasture and will sell some at auction next week. Those staying on the farm this winter are roaming the fields to nibble the last fresh grass. After the frosts come, a good stockpile of hay and silage closer to the barn will keep the cows fed over winter.

In the forest, it’s calmer and quieter, with a palette of diverse colours. The dried leaves that were shed by the tall maples here mingle with splashes of colour. Bold scarlet leaves linger on small oak trees, yellow poplar leaves flutter, and a few lush green ferns remain on the forest floor. Fungi of different shapes, sizes and colours bloom on the trunks of fallen trees. The forest takes a breath before winter sets in.

As I approach Kinross Creek, huffing and puffing up the hill, I catch sight of the new pond, with trees reflected in it.

I muck around, moving some stones to reinforce the small dam. I bend over, stretch my legs at odd angles for balance, then stand up with my hands on my hips to ponder. From a distance, someone might guess I am practicing some kind of strange forest yoga.

With the water level still low, I gather a few large stones to form a new set of stepping stones just upriver. These will make it easier to ford the creek next spring.

I suspect the new pond will continue to fill into November, as the creek’s watershed gets wetter with the dew of longer nights, and with more rain expected in the forecast.

It will be neat to return here to get another look at the pond before the ground is frozen and the snow flies.

Downstream, the area around Colleen’s future pond is mostly dry and full of leaves — that will be my project next spring, when the creek runs faster with melted snow.

Today, I realize it’s getting harder to find stone in the forest with all of the fallen leaves, but a large moss-covered stone suddenly presents itself, next to an old tree. I wiggle it and realize it’s part of a mound of big stones — likely piled here years ago by a farmer. It’s the motherlode!

Next time I visit I will excavate a few of these big ones. They’re too heavy to lift, so I plan to coax, flip and roll them over to the creek.

To me, there’s a freedom in the coolness of fall. As the leaves come down, you can see the forest contours and walk anywhere. There is a different energy that comes with the change of seasons. I pause near the hydro tower and admire the view of the farm and cows below. I inhale cool air and head back down the hill. Next to the road, beige milkweed pods release their seeds on silky-soft wings.

Our daughter Ali turns 32 tomorrow in New Zealand, where spring has sprung.

Love you, Ali — Happy Birthday!