The waves are calling me.  From the top of the hill where my house sits, I can hear the wind across the big lake.   I have to travel a bit to reach the shore, but the breeze is cool and the loons are calling, crazy in their tremulos.   It’s almost sunset, the beach is ours.  The water is cold—wonderful.     We float and splash, body surf the whitecaps.  Breathe in the scent of the lake.  If you’ve been here, you know this scent.    Walleyes and herring gulls, fishing boats and northwest winds.

This is my home—northern Minnesota.    I grew up in the southern part of the state, but over all these years up north, have developed a fine Finnish accent to go with my appreciation for this place.  Ya sure.  You betcha.   Dive into one more big wave as the sun sets.

Back home, I sit on the deck and watch the dragonflies patrol the sky.  They have names like dragonhunters and pondskimmers.  My eyes rest on the paper birch trees –stark white against lush green background.  My wild garden is growing fast this summer.  Nothing tame here….it is an extension of the woods around me.   Meadowrue and ginger under the cedars.   Joe Pye Weed hints at purple.   A glimpse of red sends me hopping off the porch to pick some warm raspberries off the branch.   My dog charges through the brambles and grabs a few berries for herself.

Mzzzzzzzzz  mzzzzzzzz…..the mosquitoes have found me.  Thinking about a campfire now—my husband has the same idea, and we continue our observations of little brown bats around the fire.  We will sit and listen for other evening critters—barred owls,  red fox.  The moon is up, over the trees now.   I can still hear the waves.  Muted.  Soft through the dark forest.      Tomorrow….the heat of the summer returns.  Tonight, I can imagine September.