2 posts tagged “lake”

on the concordia language villages’ main site, about an hour north of the cabin, is a small lake called buck lake.  it’s an odd shape, but just right for hiking around in about 45 minutes.  

when i first started going to skogfjorden, 19 years ago, we would have vespers at the fire circle there on sunday nights.  later in my clv career, the knights-in-training of the märchenwald program would go on a morning’s ‘journey’ to and around buck lake as part of their ordeal.  during the year that i lived at clv i also went for frequent walks there, and i have seen mist rising from its flat surface by the first light of morning, and the black silhouettes of trees lit only from the snowshine on the ground.  if you have been around this site for a while, you may even have heard loons crying there yourself.  it is a magical spot.

the pebbles and i went for a sunset walk around buck lake one evening before attending the märchenwald play.  the light was golden, the lake was calm and a crescent moon rose while we walked.  the woods were nearly silent, and the only other animal we encountered was one of the large beavers who live in the lake, whom we startled from a distance of about 20 feet.  he rocketed into the lake and propelled himself out of our sight using his massive tail.  then it was just us and a few sleepy songbirds.

and now we get to the lake.  the lovely, lovely lake.  

in the 1950s, my great uncle and aunt built a cabin on the shores of lake kabekona.  from them it passed into my grandfather’s hands, and from him to my mom and aunt.  it has become a cherished haven for all of us, and it is one of the few places that truly feels like home to me.  while we were growing up and moving around, we always went to the cabin in summer, sometimes for weekends and sometimes for months at a time.  although my great uncle died before i was born, i can dimly remember my great aunt, and the presence of her brother, my grandfather, is also unmistakeable along the woodsy paths, in the heavy aluminum rowboat, and in the jumbles of accumulated basement detritus.

there is no feeling like sitting in the treehouse, reclining in a favorite chair, with a gentle breeze riffling through.  outside the waves lap softly on the shore, the pines sigh and the nuthatches honk quietly.  squirrels scold intermittently, and toward evening, the loons begin calling.  it is pure serene bliss.

of course, in thunderstorm season, if you are adventuresome enough to be in the treehouse in a really good storm, you get a very different experience.  the barrage of large hailstones on the tin roof is literally deafening and you cannot be heard above it, no matter how loudly you shout.  but most of the time, the tranquillity of the treehouse is unmatched, and rarely have i napped more restfully than in the dilapidated papasan chair in the lakeward corner.

the lake itself is allegedly the second-clearest and the third-deepest in minnesota.  it freezes stoutly over in winter and remains bone-achingly cold well into the summer, but it had warmed by the time i arrived.  or rather, the top six inches had, making ‘swimming’ more of an exercise in concentrated floating.  most of us love to swim, including the dogs, and the weather was obligingly warm.  an unprecedented blueberry crop allowed us to plunder the woods in short, single-minded bursts, retrieving enough berries for a pie, then jump in the lake to wash off the sweat, bug spray and accumulated film of swatted, smeared mosquitoes.  it was heaven.