I have always loved coming to this lake. In my childhood, our annual pilgrimage came in the summer. I remember running around in the damp grass with my cousins, pretending as if we were pioneers, making bowls out of leaves and gathering up fruits from my grandmother's garden. I remember the silt at the bottom of Sand Lake, the mussels, the shape of the pontoon boat as we would cruise around, collecting images of lily pads and evidence of deer across the way.
This time, we come when it is cold. Husband and I were here a year and a half ago; we canoed around the lake, slept in the room that is usually reserved for my parents, found a giant turtle in a stream, read books by the dim lamplight. But mostly, we come when it is too cold to put our feet in the water, when snow begins to grace the ground.
We came home from the nursing home and saw this brilliant full moon and its reflection on the lake. Three ducks came by... Husband gave me a long lens for my birthday, so I snapped some pictures, my hand unsteady in the dim light. The water came out so blue.
And during the day, that first day, we met a fluffy golden retriever, one who looks so different from Penelope... ours is long and lanky, red, her coat shiny and straight. This puppy is a lot like Maggie was--a lighter shade, fluffy, stockier. We had to crouch on the ground for it to approach us; she had followed my father home from a walk. A sweetie, she was thrilled at our petting her, and very playful too, scampering and sliding on the driveway.
Otherwise, this weekend has been spent in quiet rotation--we transferred a chair from the old home to new, we visited my grandfather who offered us cookies, we heated a Thanksgiving meal, we read into the night, we talked about what might be, alternatives to bad situations.
15 hours ago