I'm coming at you from the midst of my favorite season. It wasn't always that way. I distinctly recall despising summer with the wrath of a thousand suns when we lived in New York. Must've been the shoulder to shoulder sweaty subway platforms, stench of sizzling street garbage, pulsing heat radiating off the sidewalks, or hours of traffic blockading an escape to greener pastures.
But now summer is simply sublime. We typically hightail it north on Thursday evenings returning with the setting sun on Sundays. We snuck in an extra day off yesterday, lingering lakeside for more sunning on the raft, canoeing, badminton, cards on the deck, and a long walk along the Cotton Valley Rail Trail. My only complaint is that the season is winding down. The "Pointers" as I refer to the family with the cabin on the point across from us, pulled their raft in yesterday, a tell-tale sign that we're fading into fall.
But now summer is simply sublime. We typically hightail it north on Thursday evenings returning with the setting sun on Sundays. We snuck in an extra day off yesterday, lingering lakeside for more sunning on the raft, canoeing, badminton, cards on the deck, and a long walk along the Cotton Valley Rail Trail. My only complaint is that the season is winding down. The "Pointers" as I refer to the family with the cabin on the point across from us, pulled their raft in yesterday, a tell-tale sign that we're fading into fall.
What the heck!? It seems like just yesterday we were airing out the bunkhouse, inflating the pizza float, and dusting off the deck furniture. This always happens and I always struggle with it. I guess it's not a bad thing since really what it means is that I love the lake and the peace it brings so dearly, so incredibly much, that it is just super hard to let it go.
But let it go we must and let it go we will. But not just yet.
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