It was the last weekend to get away before the weather turned. Scott and I drove down to the beach in New Buffalo, Michigan. We planned to catch one more sunset without the inevitable weather paned window we’d be watching through during winter. We were away from the city and the ceaseless white noise. I relished the silence of the surrounding nature–the smells and the light, unhindered by tall buildings.
The relaxing therapy of this place is magic, unfortunately, it hadn’t completely taken effect for me yet. I was still distracted. Instead of walking shoes, I grabbed my boats–mind you, not hiking boots. I’m talking black, leather, boots more appropriate for a Saturday night. It was too late to turn back though. Undeterred, I took to the sandy beach. My heels carved deep gouges in the shifting surface, but we pressed on. We reached the break wall, climbing up the rocky surface, carefully choosing each step. The fishermen watched me out of the corner of their eyes, certainly sizing me up, taking in my ridiculous footwear. “Watch yourself, you’ll wind up with a twisted ankle with those on.” I smiled, nodded, and continued on. Finally to the cusps of the breaker, I gave in, stripping down to my socks to summit the watch tour.
A small feat, but worth discarded boots. The last few boats of the season made their way back to shore while we took in the unbroken line of trees along the lake. I love cities, but I find such release in the open expanse of nature. It was a beautiful fall day, thinking about it makes me pine for spring.