A steady rain today served as an answer to prayer. Hopefully, the rain will not only mitigate the smoke in the air, but also help in the efforts to fight the area fires, which were far from contained at the time of this post. But that's not what I want to talk about. I want to talk about the lake. Priest Lake is magnificent. Simply put it's a place loved and cared for by many. I've been fortunate, as one of them, to spend much time here. As I stood on the dock this afternoon witnessing full faced, the cleansing breath of a strong southwest wind, I smiled in deference to those powers so much greater than me thanking them for allowing me to be the luckiest guy on the planet. Here's some proof. I first came to the lake as a guest of the Curran family when I was fifteen. Through my teens and early twenties, Annie and I continued to spend time in the summers, mostly gorilla camping at Huckleberry Bay. After our marriage, Judy and I rented a cabin in Outlet Bay for two weeks every summer for ten-twelve years. After that we spent several years enjoying the hospitality of of my cousin at his cabin at Eight Mile. I have also had several visits to the lake aboard the Cat Bilu, a 22 ft Catalina Sail boat. Oh, and who could forget the time I spent with my son hiking, camping, and paddling a canoe in Upper Priest. And now here we are relaxing in the very comfortable lake home of the Ferguson's just beyond Huckleberry Bay where it all began. I mean to tell you, life is good, especially today.
This afternoon.
This evening.
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