The lake is littered with whitecaps as fierce southwesterly winds in the aftermath of a powerful cold front have the waters turning over from west to east, a cleansing.  Sultry conditions with record-setting temps well north of 90 have been replaced by a drier, cooler, albeit still summer-like air mass.  A large oak that had a tractor tire suspended from it as a swing toppled over after splitting along the trunk revealing a rotted core of heartwood.  I suspect it had weathered many such storms rolling off the lake for several decades, and today it was laid to rest.  The prospect of dicing it up into firewood size chunks for a final 2012 season bonfire are enticing.  Good thingI took the neighbor’s Husky chainsaw chain in to get sharpened as oak is among the hardest of woods native to the region.

Speaking of fires, the “burn away elements of your past” ceremony I hosted the night before last at the house under contract in Hamburg, was a tremendous success.  There were nine of us gathered around on a steamy summer night with a waning gibbous moon casting shadows in the dark.  A couple of friends brought boxes of documents containing private information dating back to 2001, while another tore away sheets from a journal and tossed onto the flame crumpled fragments of thought.  There was much laughter and insight shared amongst the tribe as the ceremony, much to my surprise, carried well beyond the midnight hour.  The next morning I felt notably lighter and more carefree, shedding another layer from this most recent metamorphosis taking place.

Before heading down to the beach I re-visited the first and second posts from this blog, now posting number 106 for good measure.  In reading the words it brought me right back to the moment, including a funny quip in response to the ex-wife’s complaining about the blender.  I am encouraged by my spirit’s response as I was able to re-visit the moment with a sense of neutrality, while at the same time allowing me to recall matters for a proposed book venture this winter, which will be here before we know it.  August is already portending of the imminent change of season, you can feel the summer pace slowing as the insect orchestra reaches its crescendo at dusk.  My plan B of remaining here at the beach house through winter was met with approval from my folks.  I hadn’t sought their permission, but their blessing is important to me, for I would not reside her any longer without it.  There will be ample space and perspective for exploring more deeply a composition suitable for publication and circulation.  We shall see.

In common wealth,