What I didn't realize when I got in my car and drove down there was that I would have the entire town to myself.
There was nobody at the beach where I parked my car . . .
A few stray geese down by the shore didn't even fluff a feather when I walked by. I guess they figured there were more of them than there were of me, so they had no fear.
There wasn't another soul on the walking path. Not a soul.
I hadn't expected to see sunbathers, but nobody?? Not a beach comber looking for shells or a couple of 10-year-old boys looking for frogs? No, just me.
Most of the summer residents had taken out their docks after Labor Day, but a few hardy locals still had their boats or pontoons tethered in the water. However, not a single boater was on board.
A flock of mudhens bobbed unconcerned several yards from shore. But they didn't make a sound--they just bobbed and floated.
More beached docks, ready for winter.
Nobody fishing off the public fishing pier . . . it was a safe day to be a crappie or a walleye on Lake Minnewaska.
Not a single kid was playing at the public playground . . . It was like the Pied Piper had been through town and lured all the kids away.
Lakeside restaurant's parking lot, which is usually jam-packed in the summer, was empty. E-M-P-T-Y, even though the neon sign in the window said "Open."
We usually have to fight to get a table in the outdoor seating on the front of Lakeside--but today I could have had any chair, any table, I wanted.
The streets were empty . . .
Me, myself, and I. All alone in Glenwood. Where was everybody? Even the inlet was deserted.
It was a perfectly beautiful October day along the shores of Lake Minnewaska in Glenwood, Minnesota. Sixty degrees, blue sky, gentle south wind rippling the water, fall colors abounding.
And I had the entire place to myself.