Return of the Pelicans

A week ago the blacked-tipped white pelicans arrived in our cove. These migrating pelicans grace our waters for several months before heading south to the coastal waters of the Gulf. There is a great beauty in their migration. It's comforting to know that, no matter the circumstances, nature repeats itself. We are assured that as the birds fly their pathways each and every year that for us, too, dawn comes after night, and spring after the winter.


During the afternoon hours, the hundred or so are grouped together but a few glide solo, gracefully crossing the mirrored water.


Serenity at its best!

There is a Season...

Summer's Last Hurrah!
















"To everything (turn, turn, turn)
There is a season (turn, turn, turn)
And a time for every purpose, under Heaven."

We have all heard that song by Pete Seeger from the '50s. It's very apropos now that summer is ending, and fall is just officially twelve days away. Living on the Lake, though, the words take on a different meaning for me. When Labor Day comes and goes, family members and friends take out their boats and pontoons, winterize and store them. The boats hibernate in garages through the winter and spring until next boating season when they all come to life once again. And with this hibernation comes a let-down of sorts. Fewer and fewer friends around, less frequent visits by sons and grandkids, fewer gatherings around the old campfires... The list could go on and on. But with fall comes some good things as well. One has the urge to have a new beginning of sorts. (Take our living room makeover project!) A "nesting" feeling overcomes me, and I think thoughts of being draped in a warm fuzzy blanket, cuddling on the couch with a good novel. Sipping hot chocolate or coffee. Smelling a pot of chili cooking on the stove. Football Sundays! Watching a gentle rain. Listening to its pitter-patter on our porch roof. Windows, opened wide with the AC off. Life in the fall is very different than during the hectic days of summer. The change is welcomed though. How humdrum life would be with every day simply repeating itself...

Bye, Bye Miss American Pie(s)

One month ago we'd experienced the raid by a hord of raccoons. This past Labor Day weekend holiday we were hit again. This time it was a different thief: a bi-ped with biceps! (Ugly creature, I might add. The kind only a mother could love!)
The story has its beginnings in a small town south of us named Waterloo. A marital "disagreement" on the home premises of Shawn W. precipitated nephew Glenn S. to back over Shawn's apple tree. Since the punishment must fit the crime, apple pies were demanded in return. Glenn nor wife, Donna, were bakers. After all, Donna didn't ram the apple tree to begin with. Why should she bake the pies?
Sitting around the campfire late Saturday evening, after a heavy day of drinking and boating on the lake, in a drunken stupor I offered my services as pie baker, extra-ordinaire. Oh my, stupid me. Little did I realize on Sunday morning anyone took me seriously the night before. Arriving bright and early came the deposit of apples; Glenn was to provide the crust, Shawn the apples, and me the labor. All to be done by the 1:00 p.m. boat departure. Ultimately, the pies were finished and resting comfortably on the kitchen counter. Nothing like the smell of warm apple pies wafting through the house. Which brought us to the second problem.....son Scott realized we were not claiming ownership of the dessert. Rather, we were to relinquish the property to the Sandheinriches by dinnertime that evening. . Well, all that afternoon on the lake the pies were being held hostage. After all, possession, by law, mandates ownership does it not? At the end of the day the boats came into the docks. Everyone hungry for the evening meal. Our boat arrived first, followed by Glenn and the others. The gang unpacked the Cobalt's contents and headed to the house. Upon entering the kitchen, what to our surprise the pies were gone. Nada, zilch, nothing at all. Everyone's thoughts went immediately to the Sandheinriches. Of course, they had to have STOLEN the prize. But how? They arrived in the dock after us, didn't they? A recon group set out to their place, searching for the booty. Still no luck. Their troops denied any wrongdoings. No pies there! A second recon group went out and still no pies. At our place revenge was being planned. Alexis, a pretty 12 yr old, rounded up 7 rolls of toilet paper and thought we should teepee their home and make banners: PIE OR DIE. Sounded like a game plan to me. But everyone knows that revenge is best when they least expect it, so we postponed the raid for a later date.
Later that evening, sitting around their campfire, lo! and behold! the pies miraculously appeared out of thin air. With ice cream, no less! Finally we heard the confessions of the felon--Shawn. The sneaky twit had exited their boat, ran to their home and then snaked his way through the neighborhood to our home undetected. He grabbed the pies and scampered back to their place all the while losing his britches as he scurried about. We have no photos of him absconding with the booty, but we did manage a re-enactment of the lecherous felony. Where are the cops when you need them???