The weather has definitely changed. Not yet the cold of winter, but no longer the warm days of summer, the Fall air is cool and crisp like biting into a red Delicious apple fresh out of the ice box. I'm wearing my well worn jacket and knit cap as I sit on the old log swing. It is quiet and peaceful . I stare and study Rockford Bay, wondering if I'll ever grow tired of what I like to call, "my own private paradise". I conclude I never will. Each season brings a different, slightly unique aspect to the same view, and I continue to be enchanted anew.
Along the shore line, boat slips are empty. Jet skies and ski boats have been stored away until next spring. Large lake homes are closed and locked up, keys handed over to winter care takers. The only activity on the lake is several sea gull's circling close to the water, looking for a good fishing spot. The water is glassy, smooth; Like a mirror it reflects the forest trees in all their beauty, even picking up the warm autumn colors - deep orange, corn yellow, red and amber displayed on the deciduous maple, paper birch and cottonwood.
The sun isn't shining and the sky seems muted in varying shades of blue. I look up at the clouds and remember a game I used to play with my mother when I was very young. We would sit on the grass in our front yard , look up at the clouds and search for different images and characters we saw in the shape of the clouds and point them out to each other. That's what I do now. At first I see two cub bears , then a girl doing a swan dive from her diving board in the sky.
The scent of red fir coming from the chimney in our wood burning stove drifts down to where I'm sitting and reminds me it's time to head back to the house, that there's chores to get done and dinner to fix. I slowly stand up, stretch out my arms and take a deep breath reveling in the delight of this perfect Fall day. I think of the morrow, when I'll sit on the old log swing, and once again look across Rockford Bay .
No comments:
Post a Comment