The magic of a sunset

Far too early in the afternoon, the shadows begin to fall long across the lake at Camp Tomball, and the light takes on a rosy glow. The house directly across the lake, a modest structure that could probably use some siffing up and one of only four houses, takes on a romantic rosy glow. We are reminded that sunset is early; it’s winter, and we aren’t in for a long summer evening, making s’mores over a fire pit until midnight. Tonight the air will turn a bit chilly, and I bet we’re all tucked in not too long after ten.

The three kids have done country kids things today. This morning they disappeared, but sent back an occasional runner. Once was probably to ask for breakfast, because pretty soon Lisa put a huge platter of waffles out with a bowl of strawberries and some syrup. I quietly drank my protein drink.

The next runner who came back announced Jacob had a splinter in his foot. Why was he barefoot in December where he could get a splinter? Don’t ask. Lisa set off with oil, a needle and a Band-Aid and soon was back, reporting success. They all went bowling about three this afternoon.

Just while I sat here, the sky turned more blue, with one great white cloud and soft fluffy light pink clouds at the skyline. Sunsets are fascinating—different every night.

When I was a kid, we had a cabin at the Indiana Dunes State Park. Our cabin was at the top of a huge Dune (I always thought of it as the third floor, maybe because we reached it by two long flights of stairs from the beach), The sun set to the northwest of us, across the water of Lake Michigan, to end many nights as a huge flaming ball outlining what appeared to be the miniscule skyscrapers of Chicago. My dad would go to his favorite spot on the “second floor landing” and take pictures of the sunset. Our dog, a wonderful female collie mix named Timmy, followed him and so sometimes did I.

When Daddy died he had literally thousands of slides (this was the ‘50s) of sunsets. I cried as I threw them away, but I’ve never forgotten those dramatic sunsets. and I can see Dad with his camera, calling out, “Look at this, look at this!”

Shiver me timbers, bite my tongue, and whatever. The outside temperature is 52, and everyone is by the fire pit making s'mores. We ended the day with a post-sunset mishap--Colin was outside for something and found Morgan on the ground, whimpering. She'd fallen off the trampoline, and the boys, not realizing she was hurt, had gone off and left her. Damage amounts to a few bumps and bruises and a bad scrape on one leg. She'll soon recover, and we would have quickly missed her if Colin hadn't found her. It could have been a lot worse.Hazards of being a country child.
It dawns on me I refer to these kids as country cousins, yet they live  in a small city and probably feel as much urban dwellers as they were in Kingwood or Sugar Land. But here the house is on acreage,, with the lake, swimming pool, barn and arena. Sure feels like country to this city kid.