Mikes Blog

“Mid pleasures and palaces though we may roam, be it ever so humble, there’s no place like home.”  John Howard Payne US actor & dramatist (1791 – 1852)
Midmorning the water is solid, not a break in its glass perfection.  The reflection of the sun hit’s the water through a break in green foliage from paper white Birch that line the shore. First inspection of an old friend reveals nothing out of the ordinary or new, all is just as left.  The wood stacked at the back of the Boat House to the left, the hoist that lifts the boat to shore to the far right, and White Giant Birch landscaping the yard, shoed and protected by green moss, even the ancient barren Oak carved into stairs running downhill.
A few steps onto the lush greenery feels comfortable and welcoming, a slight cushion to every step reminds the mind that no pain shall come from here, only comfort and joy.  A black spotted, four-legged friend bounds from the car doors, rolls downhill, darts across the dock and takes a plunge.
The sweet musk of moss covering the rocks, and undergrowth of trees fills the air. Closer to the lake a slight rotten fish odor from a dead fish washed ashore from old age.  The water is almost odorless, and clear.  Slight hint of mold passes under your nose, most likely coming from the water logged wooden boards under the dock.  Just as a complete sense of peace washes over, the sting of canine feces overwhelms everything else; the companion on this trip has just relieved himself after the long excursion to arrive at this destination.
A piddling dampness penetrates through a layer of nylon as a splash sounds with feet dangling in the water.  Sitting on the dock after a few minutes the once frightened minnows come back to inspect the intruder.  Recognition of an old friend brings a feast of microscopic dead bits of skin and microorganisms.  Soon more gather for the feast and the tickling becomes unbearable, with a laugh of pleasure and a slight splash of water the chambermaids of the water scatter only to come back and find their meal missing.
Day moving into early evening the sun begins to drop and fade to orange.  A long ray of orange light spans the entire length of the lake.  A gentle roll of the lake relaxes, as the yodel of a male common Loon wards off competition.  The females wail for attention sounding much like a long drawn out wolf howl, soon after the laughter of both begin in repetition to warn others to stay away.
In complete darkness only the dancing of fire awakens the evening.  With Grandfather tending the flame, and Grandmother preparing food for the evening, a glance of warmth and comfort protects over the young as the elders of the family smile with a welcoming peace in their eyes.  Dinner is simple yet entirely satisfying, hot dogs covered in chili, with cauliflower, chips, and cookies.  A bite into such a simple yet delectable food brings tastes of smoke and charred bits of hotdog with a mouth warming spice of southern America.  After a few bites, the tongue signals for a break, a piece of cauliflower drowned in ranch dressing brings the much needed cool down.  A few sips of Pop tickle the palette before finishing the main course, followed by the sweet chocolaty goodness of soft brand chocolate chip cookies.
The black spotted friend returns to wish fair dreams and cuddle for warmth as fabric softener relaxes the spirit.  A soft hug and kiss goodnight touches the soul with comfort and warmth, as eyes grow heavy with exhaustion.  Soon the morning will come with the dampness of dew, and the call of the morning dove.  All is right and good; forever our home is forever in our spirit.