Sunday, April 20, 2025 - Day 250

Sunday, April 20, 2025

Good morning, and Happy Easter.🐣

Yesterday passed without incident—just a lingering dull headache from my fall on Friday. It’s a bit of a blow, honestly. That stumble, right as I was trying to reach the boathouse and just stare west over the frozen lake. I’m afraid that attempt might have marked the last time I could make my own way down to the water’s edge. Late July will present one more opportunity…all I can do is try.

There’s something sacred about the view west over Fence Lake. It speaks in moods. In the early morning, the lake lies still and glassy, and in those moments, it feels as if the world has paused—like you’ve stumbled upon the safest place on earth. Come evening, the lake will transform and succumb to Nature’s will. Storms can rage in from nowhere, hurling wind and water in angry defiance. Whitecaps roar, and the pier sometimes gives way—pier sections torn loose because someone forgot to secure them over Memorial Day weekend. Whoops, sorry Lis.

Yet, after the chaos, peace returns. Always. The sunsets that follow those tempests are never the same—each one its own masterpiece, its own whispered promise. Like snowflakes, no two are alike. Maybe they don’t quite rival Florida’s west coast, where the sun earns applause as it dips into the sea, but these sunsets—here—have their own quiet dignity. A close second, perhaps. But no less sacred.

I’ve watched this lake through many seasons and many wars. In all the years coming here, through headlines of conflict and tragedy, this has remained my sanctuary. A place where I can lose myself in the water’s ever-changing face and wonder how we can be so surrounded by beauty while the world suffers so much pain.

I’ve never made sense of that contradiction. Maybe that’s not the point. Maybe it’s enough to simply sit with it, to let the thoughts drift like the breeze across the surface, and say thank you—to whoever might be listening.

One Memorial Day weekend not so long ago, Alex caught a photo of a sunset he named “Angel Trumpeting.” A moment so breathtaking it seemed divine. So, I’ll close today with that memory. On this Easter morning, let the angels sound their trumpets once again—as we celebrate the resurrection, and the beginning of eternal life.

Have a great Sunday.

Love you guys! ❤️