Johnson County -- Leading a group in the Shawnee National Forest at night, after a winter and spring that has knocked trees over trails, for a 4-mile loop hike, in an area reputed to be haunted, where people have hurt their ankles in broad daylight and where people have become disoriented could sound irresponsible.

But I've done it before, and the head count was the same when we finished as when we began.

SALINE COUNTY -- It’s finally jacket weather. Autumn announced its arrival with a violent lightning strike to Jerry Pry’s house on Mable Street and the days of warm sunny evenings in the back yard are about gone.

Now leaves are crumpled on the backyard table.

SHAWNEE NATIONAL FOREST -- I probably should have known playing "hickory nut baseball" with an eight-year-old boy was not a great idea. But what do you at Jackson Falls when the falls are dry and you want to entertain a kid full of energy who loves throwing things?

David Matthews was wearing his St. Louis Cardinals Pujols shirt as he squinted at me, holding his crooked branch over his right shoulder.

SALINE COUNTY -- Hurricane Ike dumped all the walnuts in the yard. The wind bent the cornstalks.

The stalks now have that Halloweenish eeriness about them like long, crooked skeleton fingers reaching up from the dirt. The cornstalks stand in gnarly silhouette against the final full moon of summer.

SALINE COUNTY -- Life was idyllic Sunday swimming, splashing and skipping stones at Lusk Creek Canyon.

Even the crawdads seemed to be enjoying the day as they shot backwards just out of reach of 8-year-old David Matthews' twig. The only danger that day was the off chance of a tossed rock bonking someone or an unpleasant pinch from a crawdad claw.

Sunday, unlike Tuesday, was a wonderful day. Sunday was a day free of any fear the earth may be swallowed up by black holes created by scientists in Geneva, Switzerland.

SALINE COUNTY -- Conversations this week do not continue long before being interrupted by a sneeze, derailing the dialogue onto the subject of allergens in the air and the need for rain.

Dust coats my rear window.

Relief is promised by, of all things, the Hurricane Gustav that hung Wednesday in northwestern Arkansas, spiraling away and weakening, but possessing enough oomph to threaten tornados.

WAR BLUFF -- Sam Stearns cited snakes as the reason for not exploring the moist crevices of War Bluff Saturday.

War Bluff is a mighty chunk of sandstone that pokes up out of a sizeable hill between Eddyville and Golconda. Reaching the bluff is something of a feat on a 90-some-degree day in August.

HARRISBURG — A possible solution to the Illinois prep football scheduling woes may just exist to the south of us.

RUDEMENT — As if we didn’t have enough things to worry about, now the government is up to another round of doomsday press releases.

Before Independence Day the office fax machine churned out releases on picnic food poisonings, children being sucked into swimming pool drains, fatal car accidents, firecracker maimings and urged us to keep our pants tucked into our socks to prevent deadly West Nile Virus.

OAK -- Summer has come, just about gone and I still haven’t seen the first rattlesnake. This is probably not something most people would complain about.

I love to drive on Oak Road between the Delwood area and Williams Hill. As the sun grows fat and red in the west, copperheads slither out on that road to soak up the last of heat trapped in the pavement.

The thunderstorm had been announcing its approach for the last half hour with distant thunder rolls and soft flickering of lightning through the leaves.

Melting into the dog days of summer it is a good idea to use a flashlight at night. The days are too hot for our timber rattlesnakes. They hole up during the day and go out after the mice at night. Those of us out in rattler country need to take a flashlight so we don’t step on them.

This is a tip for any of our Springfield neighbors who may be relocating to Saline County if the Department of Transportation Division of Traffic Safety moves to Harrisburg, like our governor said it will.

There was a fish head on the gravel and a cloud of flies above it. It was a good-sized largemouth bass that gazed with dull eyes across to the future Sahara Woods Fish and Wildlife Area.

It was good eating for somebody, and by Wednesday night would have been a nice treat for a raccoon.

After I had been home for about half an hour and still couldn’t find my white cat, anxiety gripped me.

After being gone for three days I assumed the cat would be overjoyed at my return. But rather than enthusiastic meowing greeting me, there was only the bob of thistle in the warm breeze and a couple of red baby toads on the back patio.