It happens every single year. Recently I’ve been holed up in our 65-year-old cottage in northern Michigan. In almost five days, we had roughly 36 hours of really nice weather. But the high yesterday was 45 degrees with a relentless, driving rain and wind.
Some might see this as jail time, but as the days progress I am settling into a lake rhythm. I read and write. I laugh with my family and challenge them to games of speed Scrabble. I visit an old friend, the 170-year-old lighthouse up the road. I cook simple stuff, making do with what’s on hand. I gaze up the lake, a majestic and ever-changing waterscape of God’s handiwork. He outdid himself in this part of the world.
About a year ago I wrote a piece on this topic and submitted it to … I’m not kidding … the northern Michigan electric cooperative magazine Michigan Country Lines. They ran it (entitled Loving Michigan) and you can read it here. (Well, maybe you can; I'm experiencing techno difficulty.)
Anyway. After a winter of identifying the many reasons not to keep this cabin, being here lures me right back into a love affair with her. Wind and waves. Chilly nights and crackling fires. Gleaming birches. No microwave or dishwasher. Hauling out a kayak to paddle in the bay. And lots of chores. For now we’ll keep her.
This time next year, I suspect I’ll be in a new love affair. Do you think my son and daughter-in-love will allow us to keep our new grandbaby up here for a month next summer?
1 comment:
NO! But we'll be up there for sure with our new baby (since Jenny wont be working and Dan will have summer off... I'm planning it now!). I love that cabin!
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