Too long between posts, but here I am, back on Washington Island. Only now it's October, fall. A short, energized weekend, not the leisure of August.
A strong wind has been blowing. The kind of wind that knocked the car around on the highway yesterday. I gripped the steering wheel tighter, but then the next gust hit sideways and I swerved, as my arms and hands hands overreacted to the wind's energy. I eased up, put strong hands at 10 and 2, took a breath and thought about the road ahead--not the shoulder of the road.
A firm grip, without tension, kept the car in the center of the road. Eyes forward. It's tempting to look to see where the wind is coming from. But you can't see it, and you couldn't fight it any better if you could.
The wind is still blowing today, and it's a cold wind. Just standing outside for ten minutes, facing out at the lake, feels like you've run a race. The waves roar, the wind rushes past your ears, strings of hair whip across your face. The cold air goes right through your sweatshirt, so your body fights the cold, as if you were standing there in a summer tee.
Still, it's a glorious day. The weather system that makes the wind also blows cottony white clouds across the sky. It's bright blue overhead, and the water moving steadily towards shore is a deep, deep blue. It's too early in the fall for bright colors in the hardwoods--they're still bright, lush green, with the occasional luster of gold. It is that time in early fall when all of summer's colors burn brightest, before the frost, before the snow.
It's all so intense you almost can't bear to be outside. But it's all so glorious, you have to be.