NORTHERN MICHIGAN MAY MORNING

This morning the mist hung over the water like a bride’s veil: filmy white, undulating just slightly, teasing us with its obscured mood. Last night the mist caught the waning sun’s rays emitting glittering silver threads like giant spider webs capturing the lake and holding it captive. Later I knew Lake Michigan would return to its waving sapphire smile of spring time joy, released from the mist and yes, released from the crushing winter ice, finally.

Released like the loons who gaggled and whooped and sent up their loony call, too distinctive not to recognize when heard, but certainly impossible to describe with mere words. I felt like Katherine Hepburn racing to announce to Henry Fonda, in On Golden Pond, “The loons are back! The loons are back!” Only in our case, the loons are here! We haven’t seen loons in years.

Understanding the lake still has gifts to give; I turn like a child on Christmas morning to the woods, opening my arms to massive white pines with their deep green needles protecting presents of wildflowers beneath their branches. My shoes crunch on last year’s leaves and fallen twigs. Camera in hand I bend down to capture a wildflower moment. Even they are elusive, asking me to squat and bend awkwardly for just the right angle, capturing really very little of their brilliance.

My feeble attempts to describe, add words, snap a photo, enlarge the moment are overtaken once again by my sensual surroundings. I cannot capture such beauty for long. I can only sense it, grasp the moment inside me long enough to pray and thank God. Yes, thank God for this northern Michigan May morning.

“The heavens declare the glory of God;

The skies proclaim the work of his hands.” (Psalm 19:1)