There are moments in the morning that almost escape description. A stillness hangs heavy in thick air. Sounds are muted. Water licks the shore slowly. Thin rays of sun push through clouds that hover over the lake. Beads of sweat emerge through my skin. Paddleboards make a soft thud as they settle on the sand.
The wind picks up and swirls the fog along the shore. Houses are hidden by thick curtains of grey. We are swallowed whole; mist surrounds us like walls in a waiting room. The sun sprinkles warm hues on the lip of each wake.
Currents pull and push, water and air. Colors appear and disappear. The lake changes from green to blue to grey and back again. The smell of earth and the end of summer linger. Fall is lightly threaded in the breeze.