Sunset, with bonfire and lake.

That's one of the fine things about this lake: sunrise and sunset are equivalently lovely. I will miss them.

Once the school year begins, my relationship with the water diminishes. I drive past it. I look at it through windows. But I'm not down on the dock, not paddling my feet in the water, not watching kingfishers chase and quarrel in the gloaming. And there's something about conversations by the lake . . . the comfort of dipping in and out of closeness, and then an eagle sails overhead and we all lift our faces to the sky.

I'll be home in my own bed tonight.