Yesterday, having in complete laziness taken multiple hours to cross a small lake by canoe, I began to think that this cottage by the lake thing wasn’t such a bad idea. I pictured week-ends “up north,” summer, fall, even winter breaks up around here, maybe with snow shoe hikes and midnight skating on the lake. Berry picking, too. This is Michigan – land of the blueberry, right?
It has been said of me that I fall for things with reckless abandon.
Ed burst that bubble fast enough. Vacation home? That’s rich people’s talk.
He is, of course, correct. No matter. I had only been daydreaming about how to treat the million I’m likely to get for publishing my book. The one that I need time to write. The one that crawls along at a sentence a day. That one.
But a few hours out on a lake, two lakes in fact, joined together by this stream…
… does funny things to the mind.
In the late afternoon, we turned off the electricity, the water, drained the pipes, locked the doors and turned south, following the long trail of cars home. With only an occasional pause, to let the important residents of this region get to the other side.
Today, it’s back to the books. And the routine of bike, work, bike, cook, work, sleep.
I did note that I’m not the only one especially attached to my bike routines. It seemed this day was “take your bike to Bascom Mall” day. Who needs a bike rack on a day like this…
[That’s Bascom Mall for you: to the left, to the right, looking up, looking down. The first photo includes, of course, the buildings of our Law School.]
It’s the persistently hot weather, I tell you. Can’t get tight about anything. Ride, rest, read, rest, read, ride. The patterns of a late September summerlike day.