Lake Superior is calling me. I can feel the nip in the air. Fall is coming soon. I've got to go back. The leaves start their neon color parade soon. They are so bright in the sunshine then flutter with shadows of blinkling lights under the canopy of hardwood trees. The hue is so intense, it actually hurts your eyes with flaming reds, oranges, green halfway to yellow. You won't believe it, but look closely at the photo on the right. I actually found trees with leaves turning pink!
It's a magic time for me. The smell of leaves falling down to the moist dirt below, turning into dank mulch. My eyes seem to see the forest, a wildflower, more sharply, more clearly. Ears on alert as a hawk shrieks overhead, or a twig that breaks under my feet. The touch of a loved one's hand in yours, a finger running along your check that follows down to a sweet kiss on soft lips.
There's a cottage at Little Girl's Point where I usually stay. A tiny white cottage that sits in a stand of trees with a panorama view of the Lake - Madeline Island to the west and the Porcupine Mountains to the east. Every morning as soon as it's light, I race to the big picture window in the kitchen to see what the Lake is up to. Some times, it is a shinny mirror broken only by a few whistling swans making their "V" ripple in the water. Other times, the wind whips up waves reminiscent of my California beach days. Every now and then I see off in the distance iron ore ships going toward Duluth, a fishing boat or two. I'm so homesick.