Lake Franklin

We have arrived. Lake Franklin calls to me. It's glass-like surface. It's sandy bottom. It's western sunsets viewed from private campground beaches. It's treeline. The memories fill my mind as a reminder of simple times. It is a place that has been visited by my husband's family for five generations.

This year we are staying at a cabin right on the lake. I can drink my morning coffee on this very dock. The water is shallow enough that the kids can walk all the way out to the weed bed which is littered with water lilies. As serene as the water looks, it will soon be turbulent with waves from Ben's boat and painted with streaming patterns from kayaks, paddle boats, tubers and skiers. That first line in the distance is the sandbar where we will unload our coolers, chairs, and sun tent. We will spend the hours there hearing what's new in each family's life, laughing as the kids wrestle on the floating raft, cooling our feet in the water, watching the boat come in and out and switch passengers. We will occasionally pull leeches of toes, but that will be the extent of our stresses over the next several days.

Ahhh, it is the life and I am grateful.