LAKE EFFECT

I was supposed to be driving today, on my way to Nebraska to see Sandhill Cranes at dawn as they come up off the water and then again when they come back at dusk to roost. That was the plan but when something changes without your permission you bend or something breaks; plans go like vapor in the light. There is a great Nor’easter dumping snow on New England today, her hame is Stella. It’s all you see on the weather channel but off to the southwest, Chicago has its own snow. When the lake is warmer than the land, moisture rises, meets super-cold air and poof, like doves from a magician’s hat; snow. It comes down gentle and soft but it keeps coming until something gives. The Windy City may be shy on wind today but it’s bold with snow. If I’d kept to the plan this morning I’d surely be stuck in a traffic jam on I-80, if I were lucky.  

Across the lake and up the shore, I’m in the sunny cold, in my favorite Lake Michigan town. Grand Haven is typical, summer on water’s edge, kites in the air and beach volleyball. But it’s still winter with locals shuffling along sidewalks, no tourists, no soft ice cream or trinkets; who would go to the beach when it’s covered with snow? I know who. I got there at about 10:00 this morning and there were lots of fresh foot prints so the answer would be; lots of us. 

It’s been a mild winter. The last of the beach ice is all gone. The pier looks naked without its signature cat-walk. They pulled it down last fall for repairs but it will come back this summer, better than ever. I walked the road, taking photographs with dunes and grass in the foreground and then up the beach. You notice an icy sheet on the sand, below the snow line, above wave action. No gulls flying today; when it’s too cold to look for food you hunker down in the sun, out of the wind. It’s cold enough my bare hand aches. If I put on a glove or use a pocket it takes too long to ready the camera and some photos won’t wait. 

If a season goes by and I don’t get to walk the winter beach it’s like sleeping through Christmas. Summer is its own reward. I don’t think much about summer when I’m on a winter beach but every time I stand in the swash, waves sliding back down around me, feet sinking in the sand; I anticipate beach ice and winter cold. Like having a lover who snores; you love that too. If it wakes you up then you know you’re in the right place.