More Superior magic

I walked barefoot along the water’s edge this morning, letting the cool surf lap at my feet, and thought about a conversation I had with friends over supper last evening. Did I travel much, or have an urge to? It’s a question I’ve puzzled over for years, because most people I know have explored far more of the world than I have. Maybe I should join that “Dull Women’s Club” that keeps appearing on my Facebook feed! I am happiest in the places I know and love. Which is why, years ago, I realized I was a “nester” rather than an “adventurer”, moving contentedly from nest to nest—home, Guanajuato (for many years), and Lake Superior. That’s where I am today, for the first extended time in a month and a half, and I’m feeling the magic.

After two days of grey skies, rain, and a sullenly still lake, I woke this morning to the sound of waves crashing and a chilly wind blowing through the bedroom window, promising my favourite kind of day. I’ve been looking forward to putting my little red canoe (the one I scolded Jack for buying!) in the water, but it obviously won’t be today!

I saw to my morning addictions (coffee and word games) on the screen porch, and then decided to drive north fifteen minutes and walk into a nearby cove to enjoy the crashing waves on a larger scale.

Locals will know from the photos that follow exactly where I went, but I will respect the sign that a kindred soul has posted on the way out and refrain from naming the place. Too many secluded, semi-secret places have been discovered of late!

The beach is a short walk—maybe a kilometer—from the road, with patches of blackberries along the way, just beginning to ripen but enough to make it worth stopping for a taste now and then. I may go back in a few days with a basket.

Between the road and the beach, the temperature must have risen by five degrees. Instead of wind and waves, what greeted me was still water, hot sun, and warm sand. I rarely swim in Superior, but if I’d come prepared—or if there hadn’t been that pesky family just down the beach—I might well have dipped in. 

Instead, I did what I usually do when I get to the water’s edge, whether it’s sand or rock (trickier on rock, but I usually manage): I sprawled on my back and just basked in the presence of the lake, the hills, the rocks, and the quiet interrupted only by quiet ripples. I wasn’t getting the wind and crashing waves I’d come for, but Superior’s magic has many faces. Then I roused myself and waded along the length of the beach. Where else in the world, I wonder, can you claim such a stretch of sand and clear water almost to yourself?

Two hours later, back in my nest, the water is still rough  and the wind is still blowing. Not a change in the weather, it seems. Just a different orientation to the wind. I’m glad. Now I will head back to the screen porch with my book to read and soak up the rest of the day’s magic. I may need a sweater. If the lake follows its usual pattern, the waves and wind will continue to build through the afternoon.

A quick update on my other nests: I continue to agonize over whether or when it is time to move from my home. Not yet, I have so far concluded. Maybe when I’m 80…maybe never. And Guanajuato? I no longer really have a nest there, but I think I’ll build a temporary one there for January and February—just to keep from becoming too dull!