Monday, September 2, 2013

it's night.  the little cabin is cozy and sleepy.  and there is an ocean of crickets surrounding us.  like we are floating in their song.  any other sound is a distraction.  even with the wind kicking up the waves,  their song is the storm.  i think there might be millions of them. 
the only light comes from the computer screen.  ezra is snoring beside me and tom has just rolled over to sleep on my other side.  we're both a little sad to be leaving the cottage tomorrow.   we will miss our little nest in the trees beside the lake.   i love that we sleep away from the cottage.  a sleeping cabin.  with no washroom or kitchen.  just windows and woods and each other.  and a little porch on the side. 
every year i grow to love it more and more, this earthy little spot that is so much a part of tom.  his blood and bones are filled with the air of this patch of land on the lake.  and the water.  even in winter i can smell the lake seeping from him.  it's in him so deep.   he was sad today.  sad to drive away tomorrow, until next year.   but filled up with it's life until we come back. 


  1. That sounds like such a special place. It made me think of the E.B. White essay, Once More to the Lake.

  2. How beautifully you write. I feel and smell and hear the lake and its magic in your words.