Sit down and observe your surroundings.
The sights — a dead-calm fog and heavy dew collecting on a sagging spider web. Empty deck chairs, silent sentinels over a thousand sunrises. A huge heron ghosting by overhead.
The sounds — eight geese churning through the quiet gray chop. The sad absence of a loon’s call, once present on seemingly every Minnesota lake, now heard less often.
The smells — the lake. Coffee. Toast and jam.
Once you have the story and share it, you’ll see a smile of recognition.
Not for your story, but for the memory of theirs.
When will you say goodbye to the lake this year?
