We sat on the front porch tonight listening to the silence.

The rain had stopped and it felt good just to get some fresh air.

The fog was rolling across the lake and filling up the valleys between the trees on the other side. Fluffy. Thin enough to see through in some places and pea soup thick in others. There was a loon fishing – moving from the left of the house to the right of the house on three or four breaths – and a pair of Canada geese flying through the fog just above the water. Honking to each other all the way up the lake. I could sometimes see them in the foggy misty white and then they’d disappear.

The people in the big house across the lake must have arrived for the weekend and were banging open their house. It’s a mile across but when the lake is mirror smooth, you can hear everything. Even from a mile away.

And as we sat, the fog rolled closer. Obscuring the ability to differentiate between the water and the fog and the clouds in the sky.

Until a bat flew over the water and we couldn’t tell if it was one bat or two.

And now, the loons are outside calling their calls. It’s apparently mating season but we’ve missed the sounds because of the sound of the rain on the roof. Their calls are one of the reasons that I love this place so much and am grateful to be here.