Monday, July 16, 2007

Inside or Out?

We have a beautiful home on one of the cleanest lakes in northern Michigan. It was built by my husband's parents in 1979 and they lived there until they passed away in 2001 and 2002. We have held on to the home but have not relocated from Toledo where we built our own home in 1982-1985.
But look at this place up-north! "Up-north" is the name we endearingly give that house 254 miles north of our Ohio home. Each room has a door-wall and tremendous views of the lake or marsh which surround the island upon which it is nestled. The front deck extends to within 15 feet of the water's edge with a wide-screen view of the setting sun.
So why do I choose to sometimes sleep in a small tent outside the house? It's closer. Closer to the sounds of the frogs, owls, loons, eagles, song birds. Closer to the unexpected night visitors...deer, coyote, beaver, mink, otter, mice, flying squirrel, bear. Closer to the smell of the minerals in the water and the sweet fern upon the land. Closer to the full-moon's amazing brilliance, the morning sun's low-angled rays, and the fog lifting from the lake. Closer to the pure air and the organic earth to which I will ultimately resign this body in a supine position anyway.
Are you suggesting that I should sleep outdoors, under the stars, tentless? Ha! My friend Peggy did that. She woke during the night to feel a soft and furry bundle cuddled in the palm of her warm hand which was tucked deep into her sleeping bag. What is cool about warm Peggy is that she slept outside and tentless again on her next visit. Peggy knows, out is in!
(Photo Credit: Cheryl McCormick)

1 comment:

pdm said...

This is "warm" Peggy. Cheryl exaggerates not one bit about this place (although she did leave out that the warm little creature was a bit startling to wake to!) In fact, Cheryl is very modest. The house, the surroundings, and, with Cheryl, the company is always inspiring, renewing and filled with new experiences.

The night before my sleep out, we walked the perimeter of the lake, watching moon-rise on a full-moon walk. That furry creature was a great alarm clock early the next morning, approaching dawn. I watched in solitude that same breathtaking moon as it set behind the reeds on the lake and the last of the million stars. My memory forever. Thanks, Cheryl.