Thursday, February 4, 2010

Morning from Madame's Boudoir

When I awake, the view out my bedroom window is of a pale anemic morning, like the fragile fainting daughter of the domineering English matron. Porcelain grays, cream and pale blues are the colors. There are no cloud distinctions save two small dark wisps above the horizon, but there is a slight blush on the sky's cheeks just beneath the indistinct globe of the sun. But that sun-- in spite of being weakened by the winter and the clouds before it's face -- has the strength to beat a path on the calm Lake Michigan surface. The horizon is marked by a powder blue line of water. Further south away from the sun's pale influence, the water is deeper blue and the sky blushes more visibly. Winter ghosts of trees stand witness to the subtle shifting light patterns. Suddenly, the visible globe of the sun disappears, its only remnant a long narrowing swath of bright cream light on the water just below the horizon, as though someone out there on the lake needs illumination. Momentarily white flakes begin to drift down from the graying sky and within seconds we are playing out the weather forecast -- lake-effect snow showers. The narrow band of sunlight on the lake narrows further and disappears. The indistinct clouds and blushing skies disappear and now the lake world is one gray color from water to sky. Only the trees maintain their distinct silhouette among the snow flakes, and the ground of the backyard is now trying to achieve that oneness with lake and sky by turning white with snow. All this has happened in exactly 12 minutes. Life on Lake Michigan.

Yes, we live on Lake Michigan and see this play of color and light everyday. What a special opportunity.

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