The rented summer cottage was a quaint little Cape Cod with a steep metal roof. Due to the heavy winter snowfall, two or three feet of snow can accumulate and sometimes home owners would have to shovel the snow from the roof of their home in order to lighten the snow load. If too much snow accumulated, it would be possible for the roof to cave in if there was not a steep pitch to the roof. The fact that the roof was metal just helped the snow to slide off without having to be shoveled. The house was a white painted frame home with an informal enclosed verandah in the back facing the lake. It was heated for the winter months but they didn’t have to worry about that during the summer. A cool breeze always blew off the lake and they stayed cool so didn’t need an air conditioner. That was one of the benefits of staying on Lake Superior during the summer. There was no sweltering heat as was evident in the southern states.
Evenings would sometimes bring a fresh coolness that forced blanket or jacket covering. Their dad would usher in warmth and fellowship to the family through a blazing bon-fire in a pit he had constructed with a circle of stones near the beach. Logs erupting with bursts of flames throwing sparks of spent wood particles to the heavens. The dominant flame cast strange dancing shadows across the beach. Talking, laughing, discussing the day’s happenings and planning for the future days and weeks kept the family bond sealed.
Conversation about what had happened the previous summer did not come up. If it did, Hazel would cut the conversation short by quickly changing the subject. She knew she had overstepped her boundaries with decisions she had made while trying to solve a home break-in in the Florida village where they lived. Hazel had gotten herself and Hank kidnapped. Held captive in a hidden room in an old dilapidated house till a police team effort rescued them brought post traumatic memories that wouldn’t disappear.
Both Hazel and Hank had been punished, albeit a light punishment due to the horrific mental abrasion they had experienced. They knew they had to accept the responsibility for their action. Knowing that their punishment was a complete act of love from their parents, they grew in maturity. Their being confined close to home and having a strict curfew gave them an opportunity to read and study building their mental library and vocabulary. The advantage Hazel received from this was being inducted into the National Junior Honor Society. Taking full advantage of their confinement, both of kids converted a negative situation into something positive. This was their first step to becoming young adults.
*****
Hank jogged up to the house first with Hazel following not far behind. Stopping short of the house, they glanced up toward the verandah to see their mother standing with one arm crossed over her mid-section and holding a mug of coffee with her other hand. Looking out over the picturesque landscape, she seemed to be relaxed
“You watching us mom”? Hazel inquired.
“No, just looking out over the lake. It is so beautiful”.
Hazel whispered to Hank, “Yep, she was watching us, she still has trust issues”. They both laughed.
In fact, Beth had been keeping an eye on them while still taking in the beauty of the sunrise from the east. Enjoying the morning breeze was a bonus while she assured herself, they would stay out of trouble.
“Come on you two, get cleaned up before breakfast. Your Papa will be here later this morning”, B. uttered in a low soft voice. The salty smoked applewood aroma of bacon filled the air.
*****
Sitting on the verandah, B. and the kids were finishing their breakfast while gazing out over the lake waiting for the old man. He told them the evening before that he would come by their place by kayak. Most mornings, if he wasn’t riding his bicycle on the rails to trails path, he would be kayaking to get his exercise. The kids grandfather told them he would teach them to pilot the kayak. If the water was calm, they would stay close to the shoreline and paddle parallel to the beach. When they got the hang of it, they would load the kayaks onto the old man’s aged beat-up truck and drive to an inland lake. Donning life jackets, the kids learned to climb into the kayak and shove off with very little help and how to paddle rotating their torso while stroking the paddle. They learned they could move swiftly and quietly across the surface of the water. They also learned that while exercising, it tired them out fairly quickly. Looking out across the lake to the north, they saw the old man gliding across the surface. “There he is,” cried Hank. Hazel and Hank both raised their right arms and waved as the old man slowly raised his paddle to wave back.
After a kayaking drill with their grandfather in the lake below the summer home, they loaded his kayak and the kayaks the old man had given them. His truck had been parked at a nearby boat ramp so loading up would be easy. Driving deep out into the woods to an inland lake had its challenges but they lived for these out of the ordinary times.
*****
Viking lake was clear, cold and deep. The ride there was a little rough in the heavy 4 X 4 diesel pickup truck, but then that is the type of vehicle a person needed to navigate the rough backwoods gravel roads to the inland lakes. The drive wasn’t all that far away but it was slow due to the rough terrain.
Kayaks unloaded and placed, well, more like were slid down into the water bow first, the three of them shoved off and glided thru the crystal-clear cold and unsympathetic water. Hardly a sound was heard, only the dripping of the water from the tips of the paddles could be heard as they glided across the surface of the lake. First right-side front to rear, a slight twist of the paddle as they twisted their torsos in motion with the paddle then left side front to rear. Continually repeating this motion as they quietly glided to the center of the lake. The old man stopped. Hazel and Hank pulled alongside him.
“Why are we stopping Papa?” Hazel inquired.
“Look around. Listen. Hear that?” the old man said speaking in a soft, barely audible voice.
“I don’t hear anything Papa!” Hank exclaimed in a slightly louder voice than his grandfather’s.
The old man continued without acknowledging Hank immediately. After a few moments he broke the silence, “It’s the breeze whistling through the trees. Listen with your hearts. Don’t just look at the trees, enjoy God’s painting before you. Enjoy his artwork. Relish the picture of the birch, the sycamore, the oak, the maple, the pines, all different and see how they blend together. The hues and tones of the greens, the whites, the browns, see how God put everything in its individual place and how they become one perfect piece of art? See how beautiful the nature is around this lake? Listen to the orchestra of the birds and tiny creatures we can’t see but we can hear. Listen to the wind sail through the trees as their leaves applaud the faint sounds of every living creature God gave us.” The orchestra faded as natures breath faded and the sun inched its way overhead pressing the shadows closer to their subjects.
Glancing at the shadows being cast, the old man thought for a moment then spoke. “So, see these shadows? Consider this,” he said to his young companions, “tzelem Elohim is the Hebrew phrase for image of God, tzelem, as I understand it, is from the root meaning shadow. The first book in Geneses tells us God created man in his own image. So, we are God’s imperfect shadow striving to become perfect. Just food for thought.”
Hazel, Hank and the old man continued across the surface of the lake with only a light splash of the water dripping from the paddle blades as they skimmed the water’s surface.
Continuing their quiet journey, they approached the bank on the far side of Viking Lake. Running the kayaks up on the sand beach, the old man pulled the cover off the hatch and brought out a back pack that had a few small things he brought along for lunch. Hazel and Hank both gathered firewood and kindling and together with the old man built a small teepee in a fire pit they put together with a circle of rocks. The small fire they built was just large enough to roast some hotdogs enjoying a light meal while absorbing the untouched nature before their eyes.
“Do you come here often Papa?” Hank asked.
“I’ve been here a few times. I sit and meditate.”
“You sure meditate a lot, Papa.” Hazel said in an expressing voice.
Smiling, the old man glanced down at his grandchildren knowing that they had discussed meditation when he visited them a year before in Florida. They had asked him a ton of questions to which he responded by explaining to them that he was reflecting on the mistakes he had made in previous years and learned to relax in nature and prayer. “Yes, I do. I didn’t always but I suppose that is how we grow. It just takes some of us longer to learn that.” The three sat in silence watching the beauty of nature before their eyes and finally the old man broke their deep tranquility. “There was an American Poet who was born in the mid 1800’s and lived until about 1940. His name was Edwin Markham. I reflect on one of his quotes, and I want you two to remember this, Choices are the hinges of destiny. We talked a little about this last year, but it is important to remember. The choices we make in life lead us down a path of no return. If it is the right path and a chosen path, that is a good thing, we thank God for leading us. If not, that is when we ask God for guidance and redirection. It’s as simple as that.” Glancing around the hillsides in the forest blanketed with trees, the old man locked his view on an open pathway thru the woods. “What do you say we take a little hike thru the woods and explore a little bit.”
With his matted blond hair and smiling face spattered with freckles, Hank said “Come on pops, let’s move.” Hank headed for the pathway as Hazel followed with a curious expression on her face. The old man grunted as he got up from a seated position on the ground.
“Hold on kiddos. Here is a pan. Scoop up some lake water and make sure the fire is out before we go anywhere.” The two stopped, then rushed back and took care of the embers assuring they were completely out. “Okay, now we can move” the old man said smiling.
The pathway appeared to be fairly well groomed and was blanketed with a thick layer of fallen leaves and pine needles that had been crushed into the earth with occasional foot traffic from years gone by. The three continued quietly up the path in awe of the nature and the abundance of winged and four legged creatures that called this forest home.
“It really does sound like an orchestra Papa! You were right. All we have to do is not just hear but listen. Hank, do you hear that? Are you listening?” Hazel commented quietly as they progressed slowly up the path. Hank remained silent but she could tell by the expression on his face he was listening carefully and enjoying every minute of this hike. “Up there, to the left, can you see it? There is a cabin.” Hazel continued.