We’re at the house on lake Superior on an isolated road named Reindeer Run in town called Christmas. The water is fifty feet from where I am writing.
Overcast here, pleasant, dogs panting, kids asleep, coffee brewing.
Last night, after an astonishing 11 mile walk on the cliffs known as Pictured Rocks, with views of pristine nature, the lake below us, we returned to the house: Cold Michigan beers, nuts. Followed by sautéed asparagus, spinach, and ramps, all Michigan grown, and a nice, big piece of Walleye that sang with flavor. Conundrum, of course, from California though some found it too sweet.
Later it was a small fire on the beach, a few feet from the water, with Madeline’s still hot from the oven chocolate chip cookies and a smidge of Jefferson’s.
The dogs romped in the high grass as well they should.