I talk often about loving the lake. Most of my accolades are about the water, the birds, the peaceful environment and how centered I feel when I’m there. All perfectly valid reasons to head that way often.
But I realized I haven’t written much about why the kids love the lake.
“Instead of communicating, ‘I love you, so let me make life easy for you,’ I decided that my message needed to be something more along these lines: ‘I love you. I believe in you. I know what you’re capable of. So I’m going to make you work.’ “
It’s a run away kind of day. We all have them…at least I hope we all do, or I just published today’s desperate need with no backup.
I’ve found many ways to love my time at the lake. Looking out over the water, soaking up the sun, watching birds soar across the sky. There are a thousand little moments of peace, instants when the world slips away and my spirit stills.
This fall I discovered the power lurking beneath our dock.
Fish live under there. And by “fish” I mean lots and lots of fish. Little ones, big ones, and all the sizes in between. We even have some catfish that show off their whiskers once in a while.
September found me sitting cross legged by the steps, crumbling stale crackers into the water while BrightSide and the kids went to refuel the boat. The lake became so very quiet. A soundtrack of wind rustling the leaves kept me company as the fish slowly emerged to nibble their snack.
Bolder fish darted to the surface, grabbing the bigger chunks and rushing away, while the more careful ones watched and waited. Some eventually became convinced they were safe, swimming cautiously to nibble at the crumbs, while others waited for food to sink below the surface before taking their share.
Now, this is the lake. These aren’t beautiful tropical fish with striking colors and unique patterns; many would consider them the least majestic members of the fish family. And yet…there’s something special about that time. Sitting in that space, enveloped in quiet, watching light bounce off the water as fish move back and forth below.
My post as part of Colline’s Gratitude Project.
He lands softly across the lake,
his reflection rippling gently
in September waters,
then slowly begins to stalk his prey
in the shallows.
Wading in and out of the light,
under low lying branches
and past grassy slopes,
hunting for lunch
with silent, steady steps.
Boats thunder by, music blaring,
and yet he stands,
still as a sentry at the castle gate.
There is quiet in the air,
a waiting filled with anticipation.
We hold our breath and watch
as the blue heron rises.
– ljh 9/24/16