Golden time...

It was a picture-perfect day at the lake.

No chores to do, just a day to relax and enjoy. The sun shone all day long, and the sky was the deep blue of autumn. Ducks swam past, and fish rose, and the lake was calm and flat.

We spent the evening talking and catching up with our oldest friends, drinking good wine, eating food cooked over the campfire. And then a beaver swam past. We haven't seen one on our lake for years, and it was a special moment.

We watched the sun go down, and the golden evening light spread across the lake and the trees. It was magical.

Cabin rules...

On a lake above Hood Canal, in the shadow of the Olympics, our little cabin can be a magical place in the winter. And a very cold place. It is really a three-season cabin, and winter isn't one of the three.

A couple of weeks ago we spent a few nights there, taking care of a few chores before shutting off the water for the winter. To keep warm, we kept a fire going in the wood stove, and slept under a thick down quilt (and an electric blanket). We had oatmeal for breakfast, and for dinner we ate pizza from a local shop and drank good red wine.

It rained, and when the temperatures dropped into the 30's, I hoped for snow, but it wasn't to be. Not yet. But when it snows here, there's plenty of snow for a snowman. We have the perfect sledding hill, a canister of hot chocolate above the stove, and plenty of firewood.

Most of all, we have peace and quiet here in the woods, and I love being here.

A sky on fire...

I woke up early, when the sky was just beginning to lighten up. By the time I got dressed and downstairs, I had just enough time to grab my cell phone and head down to the lake (in my slippers... brrr). The sky (and reflection) is already pink.



There's frost this morning, and the ducks are just starting to move about on the water. Yesterday I tried to count the Buffleheads, Mergansers, and Cinnamon Teals on the lake, and stopped counting at about 100.



I stood, and shivered, and watched the day turn fiery pink and red. It was amazing.

Rain...

We spent my birthday night at the cabin, and watched it rain (and watched a couple of movies). We fell asleep to the sound of rain on the metal roof, one of my favorite sounds in the whole world.

I must have slept soundly, because I was wide awake three hours before DW. He slept on while I finished the last few pages of  "The Lying Game," then sewed, and played solitaire. It rained, then cleared up with brilliant sunshine that lit up the woods. Dave finally got up at 9:00, and we packed up. With nothing but a tiny cooler and our bags, it was pretty quick.

Dave has two geocaches that I've not found, how did that happen? We stopped to get one on the way to Belfair, then stopped at the Union River salmon project to check the count. We walked down the riverbank and didn't see any fish, but a record number of chum have gone up the river so far.

12 degrees from freezing...

This morning I lay in bed and watched the sky lighten toward sunrise, then rolled out of bed and climbed into wool socks and jeans and a sweater... the first this autumn. It was 44 degreesthis morning, the coldest it's been so far this season. It feels shockingly close to the 30s, and winter. I know it's because it was clear overnight, and that the day will be warm. Still... it's coming.

We're going to the lake this weekend, and may stay some extra days and get more pruning done before winter. I already have a huge stack of twigs and branches to burn, but that will have to wait until the rains come, and it's safe.

And maybe I'll start on the steps down to the water. I have concrete blocks set aside to replace the timbers that are failing, and it's an easy (although long) process to dig them out, use the mattock to cut each step level, set the blocks, and backfill with the gravelly soil.

I'll enjoy sitting on the slope down to the beach, watching the squirrels collect fir cones for winter, keeping an eye out for the eagles nesting across the lake, in one of the tallest trees.

Watching for signs of winter, which is fast approaching.

First time...

She doesn't look it in this picture, but Madison took to her new harness like a duck to water, and loved sharing the deck with us. She's actually a lap cat at the cabin... maybe she's clinging to the familiar because being outside is all so new, but it doesn't matter. I'll take it.

Yesterday the weather pattern changed, and smoke from the B.C. wildfires started to move south into Washington. As we drove around the canal and explored the back roads, we could see the smoky haze hanging in the air. We didn't know it at the time, but the smoke would be with us for three weeks, hiding the sky and turning the rising and setting sun into great disks of red.

A cabin by a lake...

Taking this...

Gets me to this. A glorious four days at the cabin.

There will be pruning (a lot of pruning), replacing the storm collar on the chimney, repairing the steps to the lake, swimming, reading on the deck, playing with Madison, quilting, geocaching, and watching the eagle's nest across the lake. 

Twenty years ago this summer, we bought our first piece of property here. And a year later, we bought the cabin next door. In those twenty years, we've shared the place with family and friends, watched a lot of kids grow from babies to adults with kids of their own, watched beavers swim along the shore, and eagles and osprey fish in the lake. Six of our cats have come to the lake with us, curling up by the woodstove and sleeping on the bed, and occasionally catching a mouse. We've seen countless gorgeous sunrises and sunsets, thunderstorms that dumped sheets of rain and lit up the sky, and winter snows and a frozen lake. So many memories, such good times.

Summertime at the lake... heavenly days.

Scene & Story | Abstract...

The fishermen arrived at the same time as the snow... so instead of going out on the lake in their small boat, they made a shelter between the truck and a fence, pulled the boat inside, and fished from the shore. For hours they endured gusty winds blowing snow straight at them, but they never quit.

All day I watched it snow, and watched the wind blow. We stayed until mid-afternoon, and I was happy for the extra hours, keeping the fire going and reading, glad I was snug inside.

Sharing today on Scene & Story, a monthly gathering from Sarah & Lee.

Simple days...

Huevos Rancheros, cabin style. A tortilla loaded up with seasoned potatoes, black beans, eggs, turkey bacon, and cheese, topped with salsa. A great start to the morning, especially while reading my new book: the best fishing spots in Washington.

After breakfast, we read and cuddled with Madison (it's her third cabin weekend), then we all took a trip to town to browse through the thrift stores. Everyone settled down for a nap when we got back, but I worked on a quilting project. It rained most of the day; the ducks loved it, but I was less than thrilled about walking to the outhouse in a downpour.

We're the only ones at the lake this weekend, except for the full-timers. Only one fisherman showed up to toss in a line from the public landing, but the fish weren't biting in the rain today.

Madison spent the day by the window, keeping an eye on the lake.

I love quiet days at the cabin.

And so it begins...

For me, the beginning of spring starts with opening up the cabin for the season. It's my favorite place, beautiful and full of memories. Of days spent on the deck and swimming in the lake, followed by star-filled nights sitting by a campfire. Of watching eagles and osprey hunting up and down the lake. Of good food and wine shared with family and friends, and falling asleep to absolute peace and quiet.

The lake was flat calm and full of ducks when we arrived today, but it didn't last. The rains we drove through on our way here soon arrived, and the day turned gloomy and wet. By the time our friends arrived, rivers of water were flowing down the roof and the lake had all but disappeared.

I didn't really mind... we haven't seen these friends for a year, and all I wanted to do was sit and talk and catch up.

It was a perfect day.

Mosquitoes in the outhouse...

It's been raining hard here, and today the wind is blowing. A fire in the woodstove keeps the chill off, and I watched the rain on the lake. We received news from a dear friend; her mother is dying. The dreary, cold day punctuated the sad news.

Overnight the rain on the metal roof pattered and bounced, making the cabin feel cozy and safe. The dozen Mergansers are stretched out in a line; you can barely see the opposite shore.

We brought out a stack of books to read, and I stitched Christmas ornaments, and reveled in the quiet. Madison prowled for hours, then settled on the folded quilt right next to me. It's the closest she's come to being a lap cat, and I like that she showed this affection here at the cabin, the place I love so much.

First light...

Overnight the weather changed. A pre-dawn run to the outhouse under a blanket of stars made me smile, and gave me hope for the day.

Bird count...

Some things I can't help counting. Stairs I climb, especially when I'm carrying my own luggage. Books I've read, so I can share favorite authors and stories with family and friends.

At the cabin, I watch the birds. Each year since we bought our cabin there, it seems like new species have passed through, maybe spending only a few days on their way to elsewhere, maybe staying the whole season. Eagles and ospreys are always around. So are owls. I rarely see them, but I hear them at night, calling outside the window. Ducks and geese change from year to year.

I started keeping a list next to my binoculars, especially those times when there were so many birds on the water, it's hard to remember them all.

A year ago...

This time last year, the family headed out to our lake cabin for swimming and floating and fishing. My nephew and his family were visiting from Australia, and we had a memorable weekend. It was especially fun to watch the third generation of the family get acquainted.

This year my eldest sister and her husband are here for a week before they take off to explore the American Rockies. It's been fun to catch up and talk and reminisce about growing up with both my sisters. These times together are priceless.

At the lake...

Finally, we found the time to make it out to our lakeside cabin for a few days. Madison came with us, her first car ride since we brought her home last winter. All of our cats spent time at the cabin, and they were different there. Just like we use the cabin to relax and dump the stress, I think our cats are more relaxed there, too.

We unloaded and hauled the Adirondack chairs to the deck, popped open a couple of cold beers, and dipped chips into salsa. And enjoyed the sun on the water, the bright blue sky, and watching the fishermen trying their luck. The wind was blowing pretty hard and the water was choppy most of the afternoon. But eventually the bugs drove us off the deck and away from a beautiful evening... with a now-calm lake and the sun going down.

Change of season...

At our cabin by the lake, there are changes of season, then there's the change to the off season. It's the beginning of what is probably my favorite time there. I love that feeling of aloneness that comes when the summer people have packed up and left, leaving behind the peace and quiet that's missing the rest of the year.

We'll be here for four days this time, as we're closing up the cabin for the winter. We did some exploring yesterday, then DW finished cleared branches and leaves off the roofs, and cleaned the gutters. I cleaned the cabin and cooked, brought in wood and kept a fire going, and tried my darndest to break my foot and ankle, slipping downhill on the debris DW blew off the deck. So I spent most of Friday afternoon and Saturday in front of the fire, with my foot up on a stool.

My sister came in the late afternoon; she's taking a weaving class near here, and is spending the nights with us. And tonight, Jeff and Anna are coming for dinner.

The weather has been cold and clear, the moon rising bright in the sky. In the morning, the sun rises with little fanfare and little color, above a lake like glass.

Tomorrow we head home, and I don't know when we'll be back. We'll see what the weather holds.

Why I go to the cabin...

To be outdoors, closer to nature (although living full-time on acreage makes that less of a necessity). To leave the computer at home, and read a stack of books instead. To have quality time with family and friends. To watch nieces and nephews enjoy this place I love, and watch my brother-in-law teach his granddaughters how to fish.

To sit on the deck long after dark on a summer night, sipping red wine and reading. To gaze at the stars, and watch for meteors and count satellites, with my back to a roaring fire, the lake at my feet. To watch eagles and ospreys dive toward the lake in search of a meal. To float on the lake on a Sunday afternoon, after the weekenders have gone home, drinking in the peace.

I've been there on hot summer days when a sudden storm blew up and dumped an inch of rain in a couple of hours. And in winter, when the lake has frozen over and there's snow on the ground. It's magical when buried in snow, and we're snug inside in front of a roaring fire.

To sit on the deck, watching the lake... with absolutely nothing else I'd rather be doing.

Jeff, on the water...

Sometimes all you need are pictures.

Spoiled...

We were relaxing on the deck late afternoon, when Jeff and Anna arrived. Our nephew was with us a few weeks ago with the rest of my family, and I was pleased when he asked if he and his girlfriend could come out another weekend.

And did they spoil us? Oh, yes! They were so happy to be at the lake, they wanted to cook dinner for us. They arrived with baskets of food: gourmet coffee from the restaurant where Anna works. King crab and snow crab to boil. Fresh produce from my sister's garden, with greens for a salad, and corn on the cob. And wine to go with it all.

They made themselves at home in my tiny corner kitchen, and even set the table. The food overflowed the outside table, we dug in, and the meal was awesome.

Favorite days...

Today was my favorite day. Not the best day of all my days, but a day spent doing some of my favorite things, in a place I love.

This morning I woke just ahead of the sunrise, and grabbed my camera as I ran through the woods to the outhouse. The run rose bright red, thanks to the smoke from the eastern Washington wildfires that's blown west in the past couple of days.

I carried my mug of coffee out to the deck, and drank it while I caught up on my journal. The lake was flat calm, and the air was the strangest color because of the smoky haze. I wrote, and sipped, and watched the day come to life.

When I tired of writing, I pulled out my current quilting project. It's a Grandmother's Flower Garden, all hand pieced. It's one of the iconic traditional quilt patterns, made from It's a labor of love, and a test of my hand piecing skills. And it's a quilt I've wanted to make ever since I first learned to quilt.

There isn't a better place to sew than here, on the deck on a summer's day, looking out over the peaceful lake.

When I got tired of sewing around mid-afternoon, Dave brought out a couple of beers and our books, and we sat and read until Jeff and Anna arrived. It will be a fun weekend!