Reflections on Black Lake

Early morning, July 2, 2015

Yesterday was rainy mostly all day, and I slept mostly all day – a terrible act of something not good in my stomach. It was a little scary, and I am glad to feel much better today. I’ve always had a stomach that allows me to eat or drink whatever I want, not affected by travel or new experiences. I don’t know what that was, but I am not anxious to have it again!

The rain stopped late in the afternoon yesterday, although the breeze continued – still does; it is pretty much a given here. With the cloudy skies, the sunset was wonderful. People up the road had their jet skis out earlier, then toward sunset when the water calmed, they water skied.  They played music, hooted, hollered, and had a general good time. I told my dad that that was us a long time ago – our favorite time to ski. It was nice to see, and it brought memories of good times back. We sat in the porch, too damp for a fire last night, but I am hopeful for tonight!

This morning porch sitting is cool. The breeze is chilly, but the wind chimes are dancing and singing, and the water is lapping the shore and the dock. My favorite time of day has always been early morning. I love being up before others, observing all things happening, contemplating my thoughts and feelings in the quiet peace of the morning. This morning I am not feeling an overwhelming desire to think too much, but I am enjoying just being here smelling the sweetness of the air, listening to morning sounds and breathing deeply. I wish these feelings of contentment could be bottled or stored and taken out for later use.

Sunset,  July 2

What an interesting day today has been. I’m sitting on the porch, the sun has just set behind the hills to the west – a few long clouds creating a wondrous beauty in the sky. Shades of purple, pink, yellow, red and orange shine back at me. The lake is calm, but a breeze still blows rustling the treetops. The last of the birds are making their way back to their nests, swooping and darting, chittering out calls to each other. It’s peaceful and quiet. The sound of children playing echoes down from the camps up the hill to the right. Earlier the children were out paddling in their paddle boat. Last time out they got stuck in the grass and weeds, and their father came to their rescue in his boat. Their delight at being towed was simple and sweet. I can hear the drone of a television somewhere – either inside behind me, or at the next camp down. All is calm, all is bright. For now I am on the porch, although the temperature is dropping as the night settles in, and the mosquitoes are putting out feelers to see if I am a tasty enough treat. Just now I heard owls calling each other off in the distance. I love the sound of them – they are mournful, yet inquisitive all at the same time.

It was a quiet day. I felt better than yesterday, which was good, but I still felt the need to not move around too much. I had intentions these last few weeks to walk a great deal, and I have, just not quite in the way I imagined. I’ve climbed countless stairs and walked up and down inclines; generally had not much down-sitting-around time. I sat in a chair wrapped in blankets this morning; it was cool and windy. The sun came in and out – one of those clean white puffy cloud days that is super brilliant, crisp, and clear, but also quite chilly when the sun ducks behind a cloud. So I read, I daydreamed, and later in the day I studied for my upcoming test.

The Amish man down the road came to the door earlier, with two of his little ones – a little boy, three, and a little girl, five. He needed a ride to somewhere, and I went with my dad along for the ride. It seems his wife is pregnant, and they felt she might be miscarrying; he needed a ride to pick up the midwife. We chatted as we drove, and it was easy enough to tell he was flummoxed and uncertain what to do with himself. He said you know, as life goes along you know when things are going really well, and then something happens and it sets you back. You know it will be good again, so you just have to wait. He said you know that God has a plan and you just have to wait and see what it is. So very true.

Later he came back down and asked if we could take the midwife home, along with his mother-in-law and the two babies. It looks like the baby in the womb is going to be okay for now, but the twin girls were going to stay with their grandmother. My dad was mowing, but I said yes, I would be glad to take them all home – so I did. Before they left I gave the kids each a package of cookies kept here for them and the little boys down the road – their little faces lit up with happiness! Both have rosy cheeks; the boy has blue eyes and the girl, brown. His hair was blunt cut under a small straw hat. He had on blue coveralls and a blue shirt; her dress was blue, her bonnet black. She was very proud because she just learned how to tie her own bonnet strings and had to show me; she is about the age my students learn to tie their own shoe laces, and that pride is a very real thing. When I got down to their house I waited in the yard. The little girl and boy entertained me, eating their cookies. The little girl gave me her wrapper and was so thrilled when I put it in my pocket – little guy had to finish his so I could put his there too! Then he proceeded to run, roll, jump, play; typically showing-off little guy. The little girl caught sight of my toe rings, and they both had to poke at my toes, with smiles on their faces. Grandma and the Midwife came out with the twins – little girls who have not been away from their mom for any great deal of time. They were unhappily crying. As they loaded into the back of the truck their dad looked at me apologetically and told me they would stop crying – he thought. And they did. After we dropped of the midwife I took Grandma and the babies’ home. We had a great chat – about families and babies and children, grandchildren; how it was to move here from Ohio when she was 14. She showed me her dad’s house, two of her sister’s houses, her oldest daughter’s house. She has 10 children and 19 grandchildren. I so admire their way of life; their steadfast ways, their integrity, their grit and determination. It is not an easy life, but it certainly is filled with rewards of a sort we know nothing about. When we got to her house I carried one of the girls inside, and she peered at me with huge blue eyes, uncertain who I was or where she was. One of the older children was measuring some fabric; another was sitting by the window in a rocking chair. The house was simple and beautiful in its simplicity. Someone had recently done a bunch of canning; there were jars lined up on the floor in one corner – a LOT of jars! Delilah thanked me and told me her son-in-law would do something in return; I told her sometimes no reward is needed – just to be able to help in some small way is enough.

I very much enjoyed the drive home. The sun was beautiful, it was after 5:30 and about the only traffic I passed in those 14 miles was Amish traffic – on foot, in carts, in buggies, wagons, hay wagons, etc. I was remembering learning how to really drive on those back country roads when I was a teenager – my cousins and I were free to travel and roam and explore. I considered how different our lives were compared to those of all the Amish children then, and wondering how their lives have fared since then. Speaking today with Henry really made me stop and think about the fragile nature of life and how quickly things can and do change. You just have to appreciate each and every moment while you can, and be grateful for the things that remind you to do so.

Black Lake, New York

July 1, 2015 Black Lake, NY

Here I am. The summers of my youth spent here – long beautiful sunny, summer days; long rainy damp days spent reading, listening to music, spending time with my sisters or my cousins – my family all around. Sometimes friends would come up here with us, but mostly it was all family. The memories we made are precious, and all of us remember different moments. For so many of us, it is our happy place, and we are so blessed that we can still go “home” to our memories, both physically and mentally.

Today I woke to the rain. A lot of rain. Right now, several hours later, the rain has let up, but a cool, fresh breeze blows. The birds are singing, the crows are cawing out back in the fields. The water, higher right now because of spring thaws and decent amounts of rain, laps against and over the dock and against the shore. Across the lagoon, to the Point, as we always called it, the water level is still below where it was for so many years. Old moss and lichen stretch upward, away from the water, and two old row boats, upside down, are partially submerged, the water causing a popping sound that echoes across the lagoon as it gently knocks underneath the boats. Last year my dad had the Amish build a wonderful porch on the front, or lakeside, of the house. It spans from one end to the other. At first my sisters and I were a little skeptical – it sounded like a monstrosity. I am the first to see it, and I admit, I like it very much. It allows much more outdoor time than ever before. The old deck was not covered, and when it rained, getting outside involved huddling under umbrellas. Now being outside is a luxury I am really liking a lot. There are tons of chairs, hanging chairs, tables, etc. that make it such a wonderful addition.

Earlier I could hear the mournful sound of a barge out on the St. Lawrence River, which is about 10 miles north, and runs parallel to Black Lake. I am hearing, across the lake, the steady clip clop of an Amish horse and buggy on Hwy 37. At this point, the lake is roughly about ¾ of a mile across, my best guess, but sound travels over the water, and the wind almost always blows this way (south). There is some automobile traffic I can also hear, as people travel to and from Hammond to Ogdensburg, or any point in between. We live on the south side of the lake, on the eastern end. Although we are not exactly in the middle, there is a good distance of lake on either end. The eastern end runs toward the Oswegatchie River, although it is pretty tough to travel the distance by boat; the lake becomes shallow and grass takes over. This lake was formed eons ago by the movement of the glaciers. Most of the rocks bear the scars of glacial scratches. As kids that was thrilling, but also commonplace to us. Now I can appreciate the beauty and significance of that. Some people really never have the opportunity to experience such a thing.