This morning at the lake was peace. It was quiet. Like visiting church on a Monday. Sunday’s are busy and bustling. Today my church at the lake was fresh crisp, and pure. It was healing and fulfilling.
The lake in July is loud and angry. The lake in November is like a restless baby finally collapsing for a nap.
The lake in July is in your face and painful.
If you want engines buzzing in your mind and the landscape of trees and water disturbed with people and boats then the lake in July is for you.
The pure white snow covered the brown. The chilled November wisp of wind and crisp air nipping my nose and fingers rushed the blood to fight the cold. I let the cold win. It heals what ails from the outside in.
The noise of summer steals what the lake gives me. Thank you for my November morning visit at the lake, I’ll keep it.
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Bar and Grill, a couple of minutes South of Fargo.
