Ice covers the lake. Sixty miles per hour winds broke large slabs of ice, creating jigsaw puzzles pieces marked with lines of ice-cold, ice-blue water. The night the winds came through, I tossed and turned in my bed, listening to the wind roar like a train, and remembering that my Mom, who once lived through a tornado, said that tornadoes do sound like trains. Above the train sound was a whistling that literally came from the trees; a sound not unlike the high pitch of a soprano singer in an opera. My husband and I got up and walked around the house and carefully peered out the windows into the complete and utter darkness, wondering if a tree branch would come pummeling down and break a window. “How would we ever know if there was a tornado coming here, so far away from the city’s noon sirens,” I kept wondering? Thankfully, no such drama happened.
Inside, and in spite of the utter desolation we see around us outside, the lights on our miniature Christmas tree glow, and Santa’s “practical” gifts at the lake house keep us content.
When we arrived our first night here, the tree was all aglow, and presents were waiting. (Thanks to the Elf work of my brother, who arrived ahead of us.) At first, the kid’s were a bit disappointed in Santa’s choice of practicality.
Embroidered (and unbreakable) turtle, reindeer and fish ornaments,
(all monogrammed for 2008) for our lake house tree, new sheets (covered in embroidered lobsters), and hot chocolate for six — enough for four days. As we’ve all settled into our lake-routine the kids have accepted that, really, there is nothing else to need.