Lake Time
Another evening fades to dark. A campfire and twinkle lights match the light of the moon. The Minnesota state bird, the mosquito, has gathered its troops — a thick fog of stormtroopers undaunted by DEET. Their mission: drive the bipeds inside so the winged can now enjoy the ambiance called “home.”
Everyone wants warm lake time, even the pests. And who can blame them?
Like its morning mist rising from the surface, a lake’s ethereal peace enters quietly into our souls, gently halting internal clocks. Tidal surges scatter the sands of time causing hours, then days to drift. Perception simply shifts to sunrise, day, and sunset, with nourishing quiet in between.
Haunting loon calls and the soft lick of occasional boat wake on tethered hulls provide therapeutic white noise and undulating waltzes, while an eagle’s mighty wingspan and fierce trajectory toward prey serve as reminder of just how unforgiving the wild can be. Yet despite harsh realities of the food chain, the eternally optimistic cycle of life refuses to be ignored. Downy young waterfowl paddle fiercely to keep up with parents in family flotillas. Below the surface, aquatic grasses teem with small, darting fish. Palm-sized turtles swim awkwardly with yet uncooperative stubby legs. Bullfrogs offer mating croaks. Even the lily pads sport pregnant yellow buds.
A select few folks call this area their year-round home. Winter arrives in October and is painfully long and harsh. When temperatures eventually climb, Mother Nature quickly washes the landscape in color. Yet even in warmer months permafrost lurks just beneath the surface thanks to glacial history and extended chill.
Migratory patterns affect both animal and human. Once again, beach chairs and toys creep toward the shore which erupts in a kaleidoscope of dock lift canopies while house pets approach the watery mirror, preferring to lounge on floating docks. Even untamed “Peg,” a limping duck, made five yearly visits here, enjoying treats bequeathed her by generous visitors who looked forward to her summer visits as much as their own.
A cocoon of knotty pine holds fifty years of memories. The décor is quintessential cabin — the old, the new, the kitschy, the true. It is beautifully imperfect, representing lives well lived, the curiously quirky, those cut short, and bridges to the future. This lodging express all of it with loving aplomb and a warm embrace. Renovations have occurred in stages, blending cobbled glimpses of the past with modern convenience.
Scents of bacon, woodsmoke, pine and lilac mingle in perfect balance. Man’s best friend, an aging Labrador, luxuriously rolls in warm grass, stretching four arthritic limbs into languid air. Fully satisfied, he sinks into slumber, an occasional fly causing an otherwise motionless nose to twitch.
An adjacent memory garden keeps the past alive and close at hand. Its markers and solar night lights respectfully nod toward, and forever illuminate, those who have gone before as new memories are constantly in the making. This trip expands upon the gifts of history, long-standing friendships, and fresh starts. Despite the distance, this cabin has been worth the effort to maintain. Not only for the memories, but for the primal attachment to water, fire, and nature not everyone is fortunate to experience.
Northern lakes offer raw beauty for those willing to seek it. A serendipitous reawakening or refocusing that reminds us of our place in the universe, the promise that serenity does indeed exist, and life ensures constant renewal. It is my hope that somewhere, somehow, you get a chance to experience this depth of calm. Hopefully in a snug woody domicile or around the mesmerizing flame of a bonfire. Just don’t forget the s’mores, and be willing to share — even with the mosquitoes.
