Cabin on a Small Lake a Short Drive to the Large Lake (Michigan); Perfect.

A post left to thaw out in the busy days since it was written. Here we were, just a few short weeks ago.

Has this become a travel blog? It is just two of the kids, husband and little me, off to Michigan for a long weekend in lieu of spring break in southern climes. It is surprisingly beautiful, the yet partially frozen Lake Michigan, even with a temperature of minus 50,000 degrees if you take into account the insane wind speed and chill factor. Springlike!

We are accompanied by only two of the five children, the others being otherwise occupied at life and school. It is a peaceful trip, in our little cabin on the shores of Lake Chapin, which could not be more tranquil if it competed for the prize of "Idyllic Lake Spot of the Year".

The tree branches out my bedroom window are perfectly bare, yet shining in the setting sun with the lake blue-grey behind them. Mahogany, gold and chestnut sway gently in the breeze as the lake flows past. It is a moving loch, flowing into the St. Joseph river a few miles downstream. 

Each morning the first two days, when we woke, Mother Nature treated us to a small snowstorm raging and then gently falling against this magnificent backdrop. Nobody but me cared that a hike was out of the question, did I mention there is also a giant television in the main room? One that has a paid movie channel on it? Philistines.

I, on the other hand, have reveled in each hour, even from just inside the balcony of the bedroom. There was a set of double doors and four large windows on either side of those. Yesterday was still white, a few inches of the stuff covered the ground. Today, spring has manifested in a bright day of 34 degrees or so and the great snow melt.

On a brave, brief venture to the beach on our first day, G. was delighted to discover actual icebergs, as he dubbed them, along the shore of Lake Michigan. We all marveled at the structures and sculptures made of snow and ice, and my husband could not believe he was walking on frozen sand. For this man of southern France and its beaches, it was an event. I grew up with everything in sight freezing every single year, so...why not sand? Of course, the only sand in Iowa is in a box in the backyard, which was not happening with my mother in charge, so my experience of sand has been limited to warmer places as well. 

As the days have grown warmer, our time out exploring has lengthened to walks along the wild shores of this sea/lake. The horizon is green prettily edged in a bright, deep blue. The waves crash against the rocks, pound the sand with a rhythmic roar that echoes gladly in my heart. 

Had I known winter would still be here mid-April this year, I might, perhaps, have chosen Florida again. It is back into the 60's this weekend, six weeks later, but I see the nights will still be hovering just at freezing, so the outdoor flowers will extend their sunroom stay another petit moment.