An April chill and shifting sands

GLEN LAKE, Mich. – We’ve pushed the season a bit, daughter Meghan and I.  It’s not unheard of.  When we arrived last night to the cottage, at about 9:30 p.m., there were a few lights dotting the other cottages and houses down the road.

So we weren’t alone.

But still, the cottage was stone cold.  Snow that fell earlier today dusted the deck stairs. The breeze was strong off the lake, but it was not welcoming.  It was rough and raw.

Spring arrives slowly in northern Michigan.

So when we opened the door after four months of closure, we didn’t know what to expect.

In the past there have been odd things.  My folks found ducks in the fireplace, which had to waddle out before suitcases could be brought in. And there often have been bugs … once, ladybugs were so thick inside it seemed they were on holiday or at a reunion – wanting to get away from the gentlemen, I suppose.

This time, though, there was little remarkable beyond the April cold.  It takes about 12 hours for the walls of the place to warm once the heat is on.  So we quickly built a fire as an extra help.  Even now as I write this, propped up in bed, the pine-paneled walls next to me share a deep chill.

Our mission this month: geology.  Folks who bother to read this blog know that I’m chronicling the last year in the life of this place, which we’re selling to the park service and which, likely, will be torn down late this fall, allowing the land along the lakefront to go back to nature.

Each time I write “the last year” I get sad.  But then I plow through it and stay on task, which is to celebrate through writing and some research what the place has meant to family and friends since Dad and Mom bought it 36 years ago. The hope is that it all emerges as a book later this year.

I’ve devised a theme with each month’s visit.  In January, for example, when son Zach and I visited, we wanted to gauge the depth – literally – of the lake’s snowy winters.  In February, I experienced ice fishing.  This month, it will be geology.

To ignore geology would be to ignore the lake itself, which sits just 60 feet beyond the cottage door.  Or the massive sand dunes a slight distance to the west. Tomorrow morning, Meghan and I visit with experts at the park service who will re-tell the story of how nature carved out our Glen Lake and nearby Little Glen Lake.

It’s a good fit for Meghan, a geology grad now employed by a Tulsa energy company, but who soon will start graduate work north of Seattle.  Her interest there: coastal erosion.

Meghan brought geologic maps of Michigan to help prep me for our meeting. And as we listen to the experts tell us about the shifting bedrock of Michigan’s lower peninsula, Meghan will be my translator.

But that’s tomorrow.  The main job tonight, which is now early morning: Stay warm, listen to the waves gently roll ashore … and sleep.