No cell service, no Wifi.
In the middle of nowhere? Not exactly. Just an hour and a half drive from where I usually wake up.
I stand on the rocky shore of the unusually calm lake. The rounded rocks slip under my feet and a few steps into the water they become slippery. The water is not very cold, probably because we have had such a hot summer. I crouch down and push myself out over the glassy surface.
The next morning, coffee in hand, I once again make my way to the lakeshore. The smoke in the air gives the rising sun a sinister blush, but also gives it a crisp outline as it begins its day’s journey. It’s captivating, and I take quick side glances at it. The reflection seems to swim toward me the longer I remain.
The island on the horizon is barely visible, and it seems to float above the once again calm waters. Birds flit through the trees, and ducks, annoyed by my presence let me know in language I suspect to be…well not so nice.
That afternoon, after 10 long hours of labor on the cabin (not mine), it’s time to pack it in. The rain came down in a torrent for five minutes earlier—it’s the first rain I’ve seen in a month (that would explain the low water level on the lake)—and it was over so quickly that I missed standing in it.
The wind has returned the water to its normal angry self, but not belligerent enough to prevent another foray to clean the day’s sweat from my body. I would like to stay here longer, but it’s time to pack up.
Leaving the lake behind, the gravel road gradually widens until it reaches the highway. Five minutes later my cellphone pings, alerting me to the presence of connectivity. I look for missed messages. No texts, no calls. Nice. Everyone I care about already knew where I was.
Now to tackle my email in box.
Leon Stevens is a blogger, composer, artist, and an author of three books (so far): Lines by Leon: Poems, Prose, and Pictures, Journeys: Eight Original Pieces for Classical Guitar and The Knot at the End of the Rope and Other Short Stories.