More love notes to the lake.
(Here’s Part 1).
At the risk of sounding like that song in Moana… water calls to me. I can happily park my rear end where the waves meet the shore, zoning out to that endless rhythm.
Unless the humidex is in the 40s and a scorching sun has heated the water to reach a Vanessa-approved temperature, I’m not likely to immerse myself, though. My kids, lucky for them, haven’t inherited my aversion to the cold. They’re happy to splash till their lips turn blue. And then splash some more.
While camping with friends at Long Point Provincial Park on the shores of Lake Erie, I sneaked away from the group at sunset to watch the sky turn purple over the lake. Then, in the early hours of the morning when sleep eluded me, I returned for the pink and orange show. The beach was deserted except for two relentless flies who were, apparently, holding an intense competition to see which one of them could bite my feet more often.
No matter. Flies or no – I love the lake, in its many variations.
The cats figured that 5:30 a.m. was a grand time to start the day. I fed the beasts, and then sat around trying to talk myself into going out to catch the sunrise – something I’ve been meaning to do all summer – instead of curling back into bed like a reasonable human being.
Not being a morning person has prevented me from greeting the sun at dawn, but today, since I was awake anyway, I managed to haul myself out the door. I had enough energy to change out of my pajamas, but brushing my hair was just too strenuous. At that hour, who would be awake to observe my hairstyle anyway?
There was the issue of finding a place to park to take in the view and hopefully make some photos. I’d had a few potential viewing spots in mind, but for one reason or another all candidates were a fail once I arrived – poor access, transmission towers in the background, too many mosquitoes, etc. – so I ended up just driving around aimlessly while the night began to leak out of the sky.
This didn’t really bother me, as it started as a lovely drive on semi-rural roads. But then I realized who would be awake to observe the bird’s nest on my head.
Lots of people.
Working people with early shifts, I supposed. These people drove very fast on single-lane roads at 6:15 in the morning. These people had no patience for a bleary-eyed lady in a black hoodie creeping along at 40 km/hr because she was looking for a nice place to stop and watch the sun send its beams through the morning mist. This particular lady had to pull over several times to allow these people to pass.
The good news: moments before the sun peeked over the horizon, I slowed to a stop across from this well-adorned little mailbox, and made a few shots.
There’s nothing like a sunrise or a sunset to force one’s appreciation for how quickly the earth is turning. It only takes moments for the light to change completely.
After spending a little while inhaling the view, I got back in the car and tried to head home at a reasonable pace so the commuters wouldn’t be annoyed with my driving.
Whether or not they were annoyed by my hairstyle is another issue altogether.