random evening musings

I drove into town yesterday to mail three rolls of film to the lab back in the city. It took so long to finish the last roll I don’t remember where or when I started it, or what might be on any of them save for the last dozen shots I finished on the beach and on the blooming things around the cottage.

For the last two days, all I can smell is fire. The sun makes vague appearances through the day, turns an odd fluorescent orange as it begins its decent toward the horizon, and then disappears into the thicker haze that comes every evening over the lake. A pre-sunset sunset above the horizon. Poof, a quick vanish.

Inland was worse yesterday, the little town whose post office I like best choked with smoke. It’s strange, and while I can’t speak for a whole state, I’d venture to say we’re not used to this in Michigan. I walked the beach last evening in a wind so stiff it hurt my ears, but the air a bit fresher; cleared my mind a little.

Today was still haze-filled, but the smell of smoke has abated at least some here on the beach, where the horizon melted into the silvery lake just about all day. It’s disorienting to not see the horizon when you’re accustomed to it, but it didn’t matter much as work was busy today.

I’m in the living room as my husband cooks dinner, about to go down for a short walk, this time a windless beach, nearly flat lake. I need to feel the sand on my soles for at least a few minutes today.

We have a small brown sparrow of some type who’s nested in a round cable housing on the back of the cottage. We’ve gotten used to her chatter, and she is loud, as she chides us for going in and out of our shed or doing projects on the back deck too near her babies. She’s working hard to keep them fed, and we are attempting to be respectful. But yesterday I didn’t hear the babies all day and it put me in a funk. Each time I went back there, mama bird appeared with some food for the babies but she never went in, just sat on the roof or the shed or deck and chattered at me. Finally, by evening, I saw her go in and heard the babies respond (relief). I’m not sure how many there are, but at least two.

In any case, I’ll have photos to review in a few days and I’m excited, as they’ll be a surprise. And I got to spend last weekend with one of my kids; the other will come this weekend. And there’s a holiday coming up, so a few days off. I’m going to bake a little, too.

Lastly, and not in relation to a single thing. When I was little I pretended that the lines the waves left on the shore were mountain ranges. I don’t pretend this anymore, but I still think the lines look like mountain ranges. Don’t you?