When I first set out to do a pilgrimage to Lake Michigan every lunch hour I didn’t know what to expect. In fact I think it’s safe to say I had no expectations aside from just doing it. Now after two weeks it’s taking on a different dimension.
For one thing I’m falling in love with the lake in a whole different way than before. I’m amazed, even though I feel like I must already “know” this, how completely different the lake is every single day I visit.
Today it’s looking more like winter again. Frozen. Ice plates. All covered in white. The sun pushing its way through the cloud cover; a shaft of glowing light catches on the lighthouse in the distance.
Up close there’s a tiny snapping sound and I realize it’s the ice plates shifting. It’s imperceptible visually, but you can hear it; a gentle wonder. I settle down to watch for awhile. A slow bleed of water spreads beneath the lacy top layer then stops. Otherwise nothing moving. Just a small random snap in the air.
I’m reminded of a night in Gresham with my best friend. We were kids standing on the edge of the frozen lake behind her grandmother’s house. Huge booming sounds echoed around us. She said it was the lake cracking. It was amazing; like fireworks exploding in the darkness.
There are wild animal tracks in the snow here too. Rabbits. And a grand expanse of clean snow on Butler field beckons. Where are my snowshoes when I need them?
It’s colder going back. The sun is behind the clouds now and the wind is in my face. It feels like it’s picked up. Snow gathers in the air and against my cheeks as I make my way inside.
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