I've been in denial since Labor Day but I suppose this was really it. The end of summer. The last summer weekend at the lake. No more early sunrises with coffee on the deck, no more sunning on the floating raft, no more outdoor fires and smores, no more trying to get the dog to chase his tennis ball into the water, no more late afternoon light slanting on the vibrant green leaves of my favorite oak tree, no more stream of visitors eager to relax in our little slice of heaven.
But as all of that fades with the warmth, we get to crank up the wood stove, cozy up with the sound of the crackling fire, pull on thick sweaters and enjoy the peace that fall brings. The lake post-Labor Day is extra special without hordes of weekenders and their boats and jet skis. It's just a few of us who choose to linger with the loons as the trees get a golden tinge and everything becomes crispier. It won't be the same, but it will be nice.
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