weekend at the lake (or, falling behind the times)

15 06 2009

last-last weekend, not this weekend, which i spent here, trying to work and spinning my wheels, i joined the smiths up at lake bonaparte for a surprise-you-have-party-guests! birthday weekend for jenn. i snuck up first, following matt’s excellent directions into the middle of nowhere, letting myself into her parents’ lake house with the hidden key, frosting her birthday cake on the counter, and settling down on the porch to grade, scare the ducks off by lifting the camera, and listen to the water lap for a couple of hours until they arrived.

From Lake Bonaparte

i did get some grading done even after they arrived, but mostly we spent 2 days eating, drinking, playing washers (a portable, more points-intensive variation on horseshoes, without horseshoes, b/c of the washers, see), prepping food, eating some more, coloring with caleb, playing cards, toasting marshmallows, taking pictures, ogling sunsets, communing with ducks, tossing things for and shouting at the dog, and skimming around the lake slowly in the house-boat and faster in jenn’s cousin’s boat when he came by, while folks stopped by, stayed for a while, & went on their ways again.

From Lake Bonaparte

jenn’s friends crystal and andy brought their little boy, so there was a great chasing of toddlers with crayons all over the house, usually to the soundtrack of dialog from finding nemo. there were also late night conversations of Great Complication And Import, at least at the time, which we’ve learned is a matt-tendency and a me-tendency that we bring out in one another when we’re drunk. jenn might have preferred that we learn something else, but she was enthusiastic enough about the complicated and cardamom-ed spice cake that i think i’m forgiven.

From Lake Bonaparte

it turns out everybody on the lake is related to everybody else, and everybody knows dirt to swap about the others, and everybody’s spent their summers out there since they were kids, and you can feel that vibe and catch the edges of the gossip in the trees even when nobody is talking–it feels like being “from” a place in ways i’ve never really been. follow the picture-link (any picture-link) to the rest of the set to see washers in action, more lake, duck choreography, low-res fuzzy pictures of the ripe-peach moon, and the world’s laziest hummingbirds….

From Lake Bonaparte

we got some sunny weather, and some cloudy weather, and by the time we left, it was raining and brooding and grey, but overall (pics are proof) it was just plain pretty. the best views didn’t make it into any pictures, though. saturday night i sneaked away from the firepit and its cheerful company to follow fireflies into the back field behind the camp, where the full moon was an apple of light in a filmy, grey-streaked sky of vapor and ashy stars. once, the clouds made the perfect shape of a landing dove, tracked through with satellites like a giant nebula, and the satellites facilitated a little texting, bringing together fantasy and sci-fi, the immensity of alone-ness under that expansive arch with the immediacy of digital approval of my cryptic planetary observations.

From Lake Bonaparte
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4 responses

16 06 2009
faerieariel

that photo with the ducks is magical.

16 06 2009
faerieariel

that photo with the ducks is magical.

16 06 2009
2eclipse

love the pictures and REALLY miss you.

16 06 2009
2eclipse

love the pictures and REALLY miss you.

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