Friday, November 29, 2013

Ice In

Yesterday morning we woke to a thin skim of ice covering the lake.  Throughout the day, it shifted and melted, and all but a crust remained around our shore by day's end.
This morning, we woke to a similar scene, except today's ice didn't melt.  I imagine this ice is here to stay.  The start of this winter's ice.
It's truly amazing to watch as a constantly moving thing - like a lake's surface, become still.  I know that ice really isn't perfectly still - it shifts and cracks and booms, but it's continual motion is gone, quieted by the coming winter.
Our ice is in.

Wednesday, November 27, 2013

If You Live on a Lake

If you live on a lake, you see sunrises and sunsets that make you stop and stare in wonderment that such beauty can be real.
If you live on a lake, you know the dazzle of a million sparkling waves in the sun.
If you live on a lake, you see the lights blink on across the water, and you wonder about the lives that are lived over there.  You wonder if they think of you, too. 
If you live on a lake, you see vast darkness in the middle of the night, and you feel wonderfully alone.
If you live on a lake, you know the turn of seasons intimately, and know all the delicate intricacies that the changing light can bring to the lake's surface- be it water or ice.
If you live on a lake, you are lucky.

Friday, November 22, 2013

From the Weather Book

November 7

November 8

November 9
A wet, cold and grey day.  Very high water this fall.

November 11
Snow, rain and wind.  So cold. 

November 13
A cold mornig at -10C.  Hovered around 0 for the rest of the day with some sun.

November 14
 A wicked wind overnight, rain.  A grey day.

November 16

November 17, 18
Wild, wicked winds for 2 days.  Snow, ice, rain.  Power out for a short while Tuesday late afternoon.

November 19
Cold!  Very light snow on a sunny morning.

November 20
A sunny, bright day.

Thursday, November 7, 2013


A wicked wind blew through our area this past weekend, taking down many tress, and to my dismay, the big red barn at Swords.

The sound that mammoth structure must have made while coming down...well, I can't even imagine.  Huge, pounding timbers and screeching metal.  The wind that day sounded like a freight train through the trees; the barn coming down would have been other-worldly.

I visited Swords today to see the fallen barn.  As I walked all around it, I felt my heart heavy in my chest.  I'm sad to see such a landmark go.  It makes me think of the life the barn once had, the purposes it served and the lives that depended on it.  This barn held stories that I don't even know, and beyond that, was a permanent marker in many people's mental maps of the area.  Driving through Swords now, one might not even know such a thing as a massive red barn ever stood there.

I'm reminded of the importance of telling stories - connecting with those around us who know the local history of where we live.  I feel a connection to this place that I haven't felt in any other place I've lived.  I think that's because of the accessibility of it's history- it's still on the surface, so to speak, and I can visit and wander in it.  I am also connected to several people who can tell me stories of days gone by.  That history holds an importance that goes beyond words, deep into the heart and soul of the people that have lived, worked and loved here.  Beyond that, it stretches to the present and future generations.
The big red barn at Swords is just a old structure that gave way to time and the elements, sure, but to me it represents so much more.