Last night’s rain has stopped, replaced by a light mist. Holding a coffee cup in my hands, I tread the gravel path down to Lac des Mille Lac. It is still early and, although the summer sunrise happened hours ago, the hushed feel of a new day lingers. There’s something appealing about this quiet gray morning and halfway down to the water, I stop to enjoy it.
Everything is calm. All is quiet. Then the flash of a bird high in the canopy…and the che-wee che-wee che-wee of a redstart breaks the silence. Somewhere nearby a pair must be nesting. It’s June, and that’s what birds do.
I take a sip of coffee and resume my walk to the lake. The underbrush has greened up considerably since my last visit. Small spruce seedlings are covered with fresh greengold buds. I note that the purple and white violets have finished blooming, replaced by small plants with pointed leaves and one tiny star-shaped flower.
I can’t remember this flower’s name and remind myself to look it up later in my wildflower book.
Approaching the dock, I halt, startled at another sound intruding on the morning’s silence, a hornlike noise. I listen. There! The noise honks again. It’s only the quack of a duck. Not wishing to disturb the creature on this calm morning, I move slowly and carefully.
I continue in what I think is a stealthy manner, but the duck isn’t fooled. As I round a small clump of trees, it flies, the small tuft on its head identifying it as a merganser. For several years mergansers have nested near a beach hidden by spruce and underbrush north of our dock. I should have recognized my neighbor.
Walking to the dock’s end, I absorb the view. The flat silver surface of the lake spreads to the horizon. Far across the bay, the main body of Lac shimmers on this peaceful morning, the slight mist almost hiding the green blur and white pine spires of the distant shore.
I turn a full circle, scanning my favorite spots… the tiny tree-covered island to the west…the ancient pine on a nearby jut of shore…the curve of land that is Maki Bay and the cluster of gigantic cedar trees behind me. Too soon, wind stirs the lake surface and the waves grow large and choppy. The quiet is gone.
I return to the cabin, as always, filled with gratitude at the privilege of enjoying this beautiful patch of wilderness.
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