The Lake

I am sitting on the deck of our borrowed lake house trying to snap pictures of dueling hummingbirds.

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I am listening to the waves lap against the shore.

I hear a father trying to coax his daughter up on skis for the first time.

I see some unknown birds (which I am also trying to capture on film.)

I spot the illusive bluebird and the red headed woodpecker.

I feel the breeze blowing and enjoy the mostly cool weather at 11:30 and wonder when the stifling heat and humidity will hit and run me indoors.

I sit in the evenings with The Hubs in the swing by the shore line as he points out the grass carps and hastens me to hear their slurping pig-like sounds in the water.

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We watch the the mallards come by to roost on the neighboring pier.

We hear the occasional leftover firework.

We are enjoying life.

The Hubs posed a question:   “What is it about the lake?”

We are here doing nothing.  Rather, I am doing nothing.  He is still working remotely during the day.   But, what creates that feeling that life is slower, there is no rush, simple and easy is the mantra?

So far in the cove, the daughter is still trying to tackle her first time up on skis.

I think that the feeling is generated for us because we are borrowing this house, i.e. house sitting while the owners are out of the country for a week.   I mean they have left the house immaculate for us (and we, of course, will do the same on our departure).   The only chores they have tasked us with is to water a few new fruit trees and the geranium pots on the deck and feed the dog.  That’s it.   Hey, I can handle that.

But, again, what creates that feeling of “lake life“?

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Could it be that the joint we stopped for lunch upon arriving was  (a) truly a joint, (b) and one of those places where everyone knows your name.  How can you not love a place that had the bartender asking The Hubs his opinion on which beers to order and when patrons come in she hollered, “Hey, Peanut!  Hey, Penguin!”  (Are these lake nicknames or aliases?)

Could it be that we don’t have cell phone reception?   That is a big one for me as I totally ignore any job related duties for a few weeks.   (I am only sporadically checking work email and am only responding to seemingly vital emergencies.   Most of these issues can wait.)

Could it be that I can eat breakfast on the deck in my nightgown, return in my caftan, and around noon put on a sun dress?

Could it be that I can basically be shoeless (or in flip flops if I must) for an entire week?

Could it be that I have time to just watch the wildlife and take photos of wandering bumble bees and butterflies?

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Could it be that the most cooking I have done is slicing cucumbers and tomatoes, making sandwiches or stirring up sangria?

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Whatever the illusive feeling is, I am all for it.

The new skier is still not up but we now have a boat load of swimmers that have just arrived (along with a crane on the neighboring dock). And, those rascally hummingbirds are still being difficult getting their picture taken.

Excuse me, I have magazines and a foodie book to read.

 

And, I have to share what I’ve learned.  The Hubs taught me to recognize the large areas of bubbles as “herds” of shad that the sand bass are rounding up to feed on.   It reminds me of some Stephen King story about the fog.   I can now also identify the slurping, popping, pig-like sounds that the grass carp make along the shoreline.

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