Cape Cod was calling me one sub-zero morning last winter.
Or so I thought.
I’ve always loved the peaceful, beautiful beaches of Truro located on the tip of the Cape, but it’s been years since I’ve made a trip out to the coast.
I busily researched cozy cottages to rent and considered the logistics of getting there from the midwest for a short spring visit. It would make for a complicated itinerary, yet a Cape visit was still pretty tempting.
Yet something else was calling me as well.
It was the sweet simplicity and low cost of a trip to a lovely lake just an hour away. I’d been there as a child and years later with my late husband.
I found some photos of a charming little lake cottage on line and immediately booked it.
As I first walked through the door of the cottage last weekend, I knew I’d made the right decision.
It was built of stone, well over a hundred years ago, and was filled with personality and old world charm.
I saw well worn canoe paddles repurposed as book shelves next to the pictures of sail boats on the wall.
I felt the sea foam green soft throws ready to use for naps on the porch, and as lap blankets on the porch swing by the water.
And I tasted salt water taffy in the big candy jar.
Taking the steps down to the dock that evening with my camera, I smelled the promise of fresh walleye dinners also in that lake water.
I decided to sit for a while waiting for the sunset. I was hopeful the day’s heavy cloud cover would melt into a pool of warm colors just in time for sundown.
I watched what looked to be a loon swimming, then circling in the distance.
He appeared to be watching me.
About twenty minutes later, I bid adieu to the lone loon and started to climb the steps back up to the cottage.
But suddenly the loon abruptly called out to me.
I turned and finally took a picture of my sunset.
Nodding to the loon, I realized I’d found my calling after all.