A little background: Tom comes from a family of 12 children, born between 1928 and 1951. Phil is No. 1 child and Tom is No. 8. Using your deductive math skills, you can figure out Phil’s age without me telling you exactly ('discretion' being my middle name).
The rented cabin sits about 20 feet from the shoreline of this clean little lake. I suppose nowadays, there would be lakeshore zoning laws that would make this illegal, but back when the cabin was built (in the 1940s?), people could build their cabins wherever they wanted. And whoever built this cabin wanted to be able to put his or her toes in the water while sitting on the front deck.
I look forward to coming to Grace Lake because of:
1)The incredible sunsets . . .
2)The simple, lovely meals that magically keep appearing on the table through no effort of my own . . .
3)Surprises like an egret taking a leisurely morning stroll along the shore, or a bald eagle landing on the dock to eat its breakfast . . .
(Unfortunately, when I opened the door to take a picture of the eagle, it got scared and flew away. Its breakfast was later consumed by three 47-pound crows.)
4)Phil’s stories about my husband’s family (and you know how I love a good story) . . .
5)Lazy, leisurely days where the tempo of the day is set by the sound of the water lapping the shoreline . . .
6)The security of the county sheriff living in the house next door . . .
7)Violence confined to the occasional swatting of a bottle fly that finds its way inside the cabin. . .
I've always dreamed of living on the water, so I am grateful for family and friends who are willing to share their water with the water-less people in their lives.
“Amazing Grace” reads a sign in one of the neighbors’ yards as Phil and I go for an afternoon stroll along the lake. Grace Lake—I really do feel like I “was lost but now am found” as I sit on the dock with my feet in the water.