The Wind Out There

It is blowing hard here on Lake Superior. The sky is deathly dark to the west and bright blue with puffy clouds to the east. Every so often, there is rain, the spattering kind, and then the rain stops. The wind, however, keeps up. You need to have your stuff tied down, zipped up, anchored. Once, during a big wind, we watched our canoe blow end over end down the beach. Well, we’d left it out there, thinking it was too heavy to blow away, what were we thinking you ask yourself.

There are two surfers on the lake in front of our house. They are both in black wet suits and using yellow boards. They have paddled pretty far out and are now waiting for a wave to ride. Except for the wet suits, they could be at a California beach, that’s how mellow they look.

There were a few people, huddled up in hooded winter jackets, watching the surfers but they are gone now. Of course, I think they should have a spotter on shore but I am not that person because I am typing. So I get up to see where they are but see them nowhere, like a wave dumped them and the undertow pulled them out to sea in the five minutes I’ve spent writing this. I think for a minute I should call 911 but then I see the black head and shoulders of one of the surfers on shore.

I am inside with my beloved dogs. There is beef stew in the crock pot. And the surfers seemed to have survived. All is well.