Ice and Snow

Sunday morning Sandra and I drove to the camp. The road had a thin coat of last week's snow and lots of tracks where other cars and trucks had struggled on the hill. There were also snowmobile tracks that went the length of the road and then turned around in the driveway in front of our boathouse.

The camp was in good shape with no sign of trouble from the little critters who winter over inside. Years ago, the police chief would walk around the lake during the winter, leaving a note that said that on a particular day, the camp was ok. I don't know what he would have done if there was a problem - signs of winter damage, break-in, or the like. Call the cops, I guess.

On the lake, the wind had blown the snow into hard-packed drifts on the shore. The hard snow gave good traction, but when Marley ran across a clear patch, his feet slipped in all directions. We found a few fishing holes that had frozen over. We walked to the middle of the lake, listening to the booming ice. A group of people were fishing in the southern part of the lake. We waved to them and then turned back to shore.

The road and the lake won't be open for long. The sky dawned pink today, a reminder that we have a snowstorm coming tomorrow. Nothing like the snows that have hit upstate New York. Sandra's cousin reports that they'd received more than 100 inches of snow in her town on the shore of Lake Ontario. We're looking at 8-10. We'll work at home tomorrow.

Happy 17th Birthday, Michael Francis.

In photos and memories

Recently, while cleaning out my father's house, we found some pictures of Don and Huck. They were building a frame to which we'd attach the floating dock. They did good work together and had a lot of fun. Don reminded me that I should collect as many stories from my father as I could.

What's it been now, three years, since Don left us? Most of the time, we don't count the days. We just remember him, day after day.