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LastLakeDay of Bloom
Jun. 3rd, 2024 08:52 pmI woke up full of enthusiasm and optimism to cover up the fact that this is our last day of the current batch at the lake. Now that we live in Michigan, we can always come back, but it's still sad to go home. Still, I thought, it's a whole day! Nothing we have to do! We can do all the things! And the weather was supposed to be good throughout, and the water was scheduled to be warmer. The bookstore coffee shop had the delicious turnovers again, so fresh they're still a little bit warm. While I was there, I bought a new notebook. I had run out of the ones I bought last year. They carry a lot of notebooks with embossed magical images by Josephine Wall, which I like. The woman at the counter was wearing a wooden owl pendant. I immediately thought she had carved it herself, and when I admired it, she said she had.
We breakfasted by the river, and it was even more beautiful there than it had been on every other day. Then we had to decide what to do. We thought we might try a walk through the forest on the Logging Trail, where there's a stone shelter that is a very pretty place to sit. Alas, it was harder to get there than we thought. The Sparrowhawk is trying to accumulate some data about what makes walking harder sometimes than others. We had to sit down on several logs at various points, and once on a very old bench that magically appeared out of the forest. It's so old that it's almost completely camouflaged by decay, lichen, and moss. We'd sit for a few minutes until his meds kicked in or he had rested enough, and then continue. It took a long time, but that's not all bad. There is true magic in spending time very quietly in the forest, just watching the movement of light and wind, and noticing all kinds of small beauties that you might miss if you were moving rapidly.
Still, it was getting late when we returned to the beach. Originally, we were going to swim after the walk, when it was warmer. But I was tired, and the wind had come up again, and it seemed pretty cold. I dipped my feet in the waves and agonized about whether I wanted to throw my whole self in again, and finally decided not to. Privately mourning for how things are not as they have been, the moxie I needed to brace up against the chill had leaked away. The Sparrowhawk kindly suggested that I could sit on the porch and rest for awhile, and he would make me a cup of tea. As I watched the lake, dark clouds slowly spread across the water, and by the time we were ready to go out for a bite to eat, it started pouring down rain again. So I was retroactively justified in my decision to call it a day. The water is still pretty cold, and it is grey from beginning to end. The horizon is an indistinct smudge.
We breakfasted by the river, and it was even more beautiful there than it had been on every other day. Then we had to decide what to do. We thought we might try a walk through the forest on the Logging Trail, where there's a stone shelter that is a very pretty place to sit. Alas, it was harder to get there than we thought. The Sparrowhawk is trying to accumulate some data about what makes walking harder sometimes than others. We had to sit down on several logs at various points, and once on a very old bench that magically appeared out of the forest. It's so old that it's almost completely camouflaged by decay, lichen, and moss. We'd sit for a few minutes until his meds kicked in or he had rested enough, and then continue. It took a long time, but that's not all bad. There is true magic in spending time very quietly in the forest, just watching the movement of light and wind, and noticing all kinds of small beauties that you might miss if you were moving rapidly.
Still, it was getting late when we returned to the beach. Originally, we were going to swim after the walk, when it was warmer. But I was tired, and the wind had come up again, and it seemed pretty cold. I dipped my feet in the waves and agonized about whether I wanted to throw my whole self in again, and finally decided not to. Privately mourning for how things are not as they have been, the moxie I needed to brace up against the chill had leaked away. The Sparrowhawk kindly suggested that I could sit on the porch and rest for awhile, and he would make me a cup of tea. As I watched the lake, dark clouds slowly spread across the water, and by the time we were ready to go out for a bite to eat, it started pouring down rain again. So I was retroactively justified in my decision to call it a day. The water is still pretty cold, and it is grey from beginning to end. The horizon is an indistinct smudge.
