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Path to the lodge

The path back to the lodge (you can see the roof just right of center). You see a bit of the lake, not yet frozen, in the lower right foreground.

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Turkey tracks?

It would seem we were the first humans to break snow on this part of the path. The path starts about midway between the lake and the lodge, then meanders off into the woods. Some trees have been cleared for modest development; others have been cleared by nature. But it's still fair to call it a wood. It doesn't take long, between snow and shocking blue sky, to forget civilization.

It's between 3 and 4 on a Friday afternoon. Temperature hovers around freezing, with a light wind. We walk about a quarter of the path before we turn back and return to the lodge.

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Saturday Dawn.

Sunrise, Saturday, February 3. Just minutes before this picture was taken, the sky was as gray as the frozen lake. I had gotten up around 5, and prayed the rosary in our chapel. By the time I had finished, Pam was up. We sat in silence, a table between us, and rejoiced for a new day.

I sat reading as Pam made coffee and emptied the dishwasher. I would have my turn Sunday morning. I'm reading David Whyte's Crossing the Unknown Sea: Work as a Pilgrimage of Identity; I had checked it out from the library Friday morning. The author had been commended to me (he's done work on poetry in the workplace); and, as it turned out, this was a good book to bring on retreat.