The Michigan Lakehouse, 2016

The lakehouse this year was wrapped up in a whirlwind of partial memory, most likely because we somehow managed to pull it off with a 4 week old baby in tow. So each morning I was somewhat of a zombie, and each afternoon I accomplished next to nothing, but it didn't feel much like the respite that is usually the lakehouse because, I was in the throws of postpartum recovery.

Even so, much like the fog of having a baby, I think about the lakehouse this year and smile. I wrap all of my memories in a soft blanket of happiness and tuck it in between the stress of work and the rigamarole of our routines to pull out and cuddle whenever I feel the urge. 

And so, here are some of those memories, captured in time. 

This poem, by Donna Lalongo, is fitting:

this night
on skies peopled in strawberry ice cream,
one sun, father of a moon,
tossed his head in a rain-loved lake
and came out dripping fishes in a morning.

this day
is picture framed in a million untamed oaks
and pelted acorns.

this gray pond
buzzed with boats and silent bubbling oars,
kisses the shore and runs from her crying.

this summer house
on Indian land
smelling of its heritage and once story,
melts mornings spent in bacon, eggs, and iron water

this week
pick of the blueberry season
made miracles of fire and joy fall from trees