Here: Far, Far North

It’s a different world up here, “here” being a cabin on an island in Lake of the Woods, Ontario, Canada, about an hour north of the MInnesota state line. You need a passport to cross the border. You need a boat to reach the island, one of 14,000 islands in this huge lake. You need patience while opening the cabin and getting the water supply going (drawn from the lake). But it’s worth all the effort.

Through the open windows I hear wonderful sounds: water lapping on the rocky shoreline, wind rustling in the pine and birch trees, the distant shriek of eagles, the melodies of a song sparrow, the call of loons.

‘Here” is the place where I write: daily journals, weekly blogs, and – hopefully – the second novel in my Women of Beowulf series. Right now I’m still working on chapter one, but I’ve outlined the whole book in detail, so I think I know where I’m headed.

“Here” is also the place where I feel a part of the larger picture. Everything here speaks to me of life’s abundance: tiny strawberries nestled in the grass, wild roses arching over the outhouse, strange mushrooms sprouting on the trail, gangly teenage pelicans cruising past the dock, mink scat and crayfish shells left on the swimming rock, moss-backed turtles sunning on fallen logs. Even the float planes flying overhead seem a part of this gigantic jigsaw puzzle. I’m here. I’m home.

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