“Days here are always good,” Lake said to me over lunch. He was recounting an exchange he’s had with the neighbor Mr. Galvan who had looked Lake directly in the eyes and said:

“Lake, I gotta tell you something. There’s never a bad day at the lake.”

Lake experienced something new over at the construction site on his morning adventure with Nana: “sand beans.” Nana confirmed it was pea gravel!

I love the unique way Lake recalls things and phrases and events; it is a glimpse into his mind.

He’s having such a good day that time appears to expand in order to accommodate all the goodness. After his nap Nana took Lake out in her kayak “The Flame” and they paddled for two hours. Upon returning for a late dinner, Lake enthused: “I spent the whole day on the row! I didn’t even have a nap!”

Then at bedtime, and peppered throughout the day, he sings to us, “I love you all my love yous!”

We love you too, Lake! Your endearing nature makes the four-year-old mood swings bearable. Continued thanks to Nana for making a warm-hearted home, and all the lovely neighbors out here for building such a historic community. All good days out here at the lake to be sure; this one was no exception.

A perfect day, I’m glad I spent it with you!

I was devastated by the news of the June 22, 2020 executive proclamation suspending visas for aliens who may pose a threat to our economic recovery. In theory I support the sentiment of reducing America’s elevated unemployment rate. I had just lamenting how Switzerland could motivate its nation with a nice “get Switzerland working again; have-a-Swiss-holiday” message, while America wasn’t generating anything so positive and effective.

In practice this restriction doesn’t simultaneously substitute Americans for the jobs of J1 visa holders among others. Our au pair agency is not offering domestic American au pairs the opportunity to connect with American host families (from a different region of the country, say) for an au pair year. I did inquire. Alas, middle class American double-income-dependent working families are simply being stretched thin, asked to do more.

The Economist’s 1 August 2020 publication of “Tearing up the welcome mat” (pp 47-49) captured our alarm of the situation:

“In June [Mr Trump] issued a ‘Proclamation Suspending Entry of Aliens Who Present a Risk to the US Labour Market Following the Coronavirus Outbreak’. It froze four types of visas for the rest of the year: H-1BS (for highly skilled workers); H-2BS (fo less-skilled workers); J visas, for au pairs, temporary summer workers and some academics; and L visas, for professionals who are moved within the same company.

“These new rules, combined with the near-total shutdown of visa offices, will destroy American jobs, not create them…

“Banning au pairs won’t create jobs for Americans, either. On the contrary: by providing cheap child care, au pairs mak it it easier for American parents to go out to work. Families that couldn’t afford a nanny can often afford an au pair because part of the au pair’s compensation is a place to stay and a chance to learn English.

“Jason Patwell, a defense conractor, is a single father of three boys, one of whom has special needs. He was aghast when he realizes that an au pair would not be coming. ‘I would love to say I have a back-up plan, but I don’t. I can throw money at the problem, and go into debt. I’ll survive until the end of the summer,’ he says.”

Then in mid-July came our potential break. The national interest exceptions, for which we ought to qualify as medical workers essential to the treatment of COVID patients and research toward new COVID therapies. If granted, at the discretion of the US Consulate in the home country, the au pair must travel to our family within 30 days.

The German au pair we matched with, Madeline Jung, would be so sad to lose her opportunity to arrive in September. We are hopeful that during her upcoming US Consular appointment on 8 September she’ll be granted a J-1 visa under the national interest exception. Then we will all be thrilled to be united together as one strong multinational family! It is truly a matter of national, and personal, importance!

Ich drucke dir die Daumen, I’ll press my thumbs for you! as the German saying goes, roughly translated to: cross your fingers for us!!

Nana, our Queen Mother, is taking exquisite care of all of us here at her Summer Estate of Point Petite. She grew up here, and now decades later, her grand children are following in her footsteps, as bare feet find their way over well worn rock paths. Each day is an adventure here. Meals, activities (making robots, boating, hiking), and lessons (swimming, reading, manners, and life) are all steeped in her tender loving care. It’s a full immersion act of devotion and we appreciate her so.

All perfect days… we’re glad we’re spending them here with you. Thank you for everything! We love you, Nana!

Lake said his hair isn’t red, it’s orange. I sympathized with his dismay and counseled him on the convention that we have “red” hair. He conceded that, well, his hair is orange and red. It’s true; our hair is comprised of many colors including copper, gold, orange, red, strawberry blonde, and in my case grey. Nana vehemently disagreed. “You don’t have any grey,” she said. “That’s because I pulled all the grey hair out,” I said. Lake said, “Lady Kitty pulled all your grey hair out!”

Too funny and astute, that Lake! Lake is well aware Lady Kitty is on the habit of grabbing on and pulling my hair out… a habit I’m none too fond of. Lady Kitty even grabs hold and pulls Lake’s short hair with her tiny vice grips… so he speaks from experience.

If only it were true and she could discern to preferentially pull the grey hair, I might not mind as much! Like many, my idealism has given way to pragmatism with time. Glad to have hair! Happy if it’s “red” and not grey! Even though Lake’s observation is apt. In my estimation, Lady Kitty, Lake and I all have tresses spun of gold, rose gold.

Lady Kitty exuberantly and indiscriminately gathers life towards her; tasting each for character and consuming its essence. Approaching six months, she shows great interest in eating. This is generally regarded as a positive development. We follow the guidance of Baby Lead Weaning. In essence, after six months of exclusive breastfeeding, breastfeeding is supplemented by child feeding themselves healthy finger foods as soon as they’re ready, able and willing. Lady Kitty has got her two bottom teeth installed and she’s ready to dig in!

Her blueberry eyes have keenly observed that we routinely gather together at the table, with relish. She has concluded that we’re up to something good… too good to pass up. This morning we could hardly keep the farm stand apricots out of her grasping reach. Her tenticle arms extend, scoop, grab, and return, checking for bounty. We seek to vigilantly push back the near plates of food.

At the beach it’s another story. She’s as quick as a lightning bug. At any chance she sucussfully scoops sand into her mouth: her first solids! I perform the finger sweep and removed it, but not until she had had her first taste of gourmand living. “I detect flinty notes,” she reflects.

Lake and I went for a hike today; with Lady Kitty getting a free ride. Before we set out we studied the map and planned our route. Lake said he wanted to make the longest hike possible of the various trails and loops in the nature conservation near us: to go ninety and hundred miles. I interpreted his intent literally, if not his words. We hiked for more than two hours. Later he denied ever stating he’d like to go on the long version when the 3.5 miles loomed endlessly.

It sprinkled rain on and off throughout our adventure. We were not fazed. The cool damp air was a welcome reprieve from the recent string of hot sunny days. We encountered no one and nothing on the trail: just damp forest smelling freshly of pine, reminding me of my days cruising timber in the Arapaho National Forest of Colorado.

We hiked, sang (The Bear Goes Over the Mountain), and planned for the hot chocolate we’d make when we arrived home. When we got thirsty we licked droplets of water off the snowberry leaves.

Lake said he wanted me to help him do a walking handstand across the living room floor when we got home; after we got home and before the hot chocolate. Sounded like a solid plan and I said as much. Indeed, we managed it later (the specificity helped). Meanwhile, when we paused to take in the peek-a-boo view of the lake I said: “See the lake in the distance? It’s the grey between the tops of the trees.”

Lake said, “ all I see is wite. Wite. Wite. Wite!”

Light? He became more emphatic as I continued to search for his meaning.

“The tolor wite,” he said.

“Aha! The color white. Thank you for explaining that, Lake. I appreciate it so much when you are able to elaborate on the meaning of a word while you’re learning to enunciate. It helps us both to not get frustrated.”

Back at home we read Amelia Bedelia Goes Camping and laughed at her silly communication gaffs. Clear communication feels like such an improbably elusive art sometimes. Today, our rainy day tested our skills and then rewarded us with a magical moment.

A perfect day, I’m glad I spent it with you, big hiker!

Deer tracks greeted us on the beach this morning. Our neighbors spotted a large bull moose one morning last week. The sleepy Summer days unfold with all the excitement and action of the theatre.

We enjoy front row season tickets to this nature bath show. Water laps the shore where large bass break through the surface with a loud flip flap, taunting osprey and bald eagles with their shiny flash all day long. A soundtrack of birdsong and rustling branches filters through the dappled light of the forest canopy. Resident hummingbirds whir and flit over the front porch, checking the dead pine branches for nectar. Inhaling deeply the dry air reveals faint traces of fish and fresh baked pine.

Sunset infuses the ripples with pink and blue liquid gold. The red Old Town canoe glides us over the dusk and into the night as bats swoop and dart like kamikaze. As the moon gains in lumens, this Summer’s comet appears to silent applause as the curtain drops on the day. Coyotes yip and howl to the night.

The healing power of nature bathes our world as the weeks slip stealthily by.

I spent a month of the summer after graduating high school in the panhandle of Texas volunteering for the Student Conservation Corps. We worked trail maintenance in an area of the Guadalupe Mountains National Park where flash floods breathed brief life into wildflowers and routinely obliterated the trail yielding frequent search and rescue missions. Scott Bates led our project, personally selecting us, six diverse teens from around the country. Daisy from Colorado, Spike from North Carolina, and I was Fern from Washington. Then there were the three boys whose trail names I forget: Vermont, inner city Chicago and New Jersey. Scott confessed he chose me for my Wilderness First Aid Mountaineers training; he wanted a medic on board in case something happened to him. Luckily there were no accidents, and I was glad for the opportunity to be on the crew. I parlayed that experience into future jobs with the National Forest Service and the National Park Service for many subsequent seasons.

Our crew stayed in the backcountry for 21 days straight, working a section of trail from near our camp to further up in the hills. Our job was to delineate the trail, proofing it against heavy rainfall erosion. We built up rocky tread and cairns, as well as countless water-bars and footbridges over dry creek beds. We worked out in the desert in full work clothes, leather work boots, leather gloves and helmets, with not a speck of shade around. To get an early start on the day, Scott would wake us early with flute playing and after breakfast we would march out the trail to where we had left off the afternoon prior. In the evening we would lie out on the rocks under a half-dome of stars so bright and so dense the Milky Way was nearly opaque. We would relax and watch for shooting stars that fell as thick as snowflakes. It felt like if we stuck our tongues out we might just catch one.

The National Park Service packer, who’s name I recall being Jack, visited us weekly to resupply our camp with water; he was on horseback accompanied by pack-mules. We used the water sparingly. I was the only one who bathed daily (via sponge bath), although none of us washed our hair ever. Midmorning every day we would interrupt our trailwork to gather around the radio at a designated time. To keep the lines of communication open Scott would radio dispatch. During this short exchange between Scott and dispatch we would receive the weather report. Every day it was the same: sunny, with highs in the low 100s. We found this hilarious standing there in our workgear drinking hot water from our canteens in the relentless heat: highs in the low 100s. The joke was on us! I cherish those memories, but I don’t mind trading desert for lake.

Today was another perfect day at Newman Lake with highs in the low 100’s. I’m so grateful to my parents for maintaining this lake cabin oasis—a slice of family history and my happy place. We hovered near the water all day as the thermometer rose, playing in the water and taking Lady Kitty in for frequent swims and dunks. We made banana ice cream (frozen bananas blended with a bit of soy milk). Nana, Lake and I went for a sunset moonlight canoe paddle after Lady Kitty went to bed. Then Lake and I finished the evening with a courageous (due to the proximity of coyotes per Lake) night swim.

Dear Reader, I hope you’re finding ways to beat the heat as well. Please let me know. I love hearing from you!

I took this photo in 2016. Two-months-old Lake and I were visiting NanaBaba. The place looks the same at first glance, belying impactful cabin restoration And a growing family. So much and so little has changed. Now Lake is 4 years and two months old, and instead of lying on the sofa wiggling and burbling, he’s jumping on the sofa and building sandcastles in the moonlight. Lady Kitty wasn’t even a glimmer in her mama’s eye four years ago. Now she’s smiling and kicking in the water. The cabin has undergone significant improvements thanks to the sweat equity of NanaBaba, notably: drilling a 400’ well; building a guest apartment; and retrofitting a foundation.

Here’s a catalogue of improvements for posterity’s record:

2006-2010 new roof; back stairs; front porch

2012 – attic insulation; foundation rehabilitation begins (109 x 60 pound bags of Sackrete (sand, gravel, cement); Reunion

2013- foundation rehab continues; upper and lower birth rebuilt (Rathdrum channel cedar siding); basement rewired

2014- new wood stove replaces the old Franklin; more foundation; rewiring; interior walls of lower berth (pinewood)

2015- septic system: drain field plus two 1000 gallon plastic holding tanks; framed kitchen, 3/4 bath, laundry alcove; Sheetrocked, muddied tapes and plastered; rewiring continues; rough-plumbed basement… = modern NEW KITCHEN with marble countertops, gorgeous INDOOR BATHROOM with SHOWER, flush toilets, and washing machine!

2016- foundation work continues under bedroom stack; interior siding and trim work; electric heater installed.

2017- installed pressurized water tank; wired three outdoor lights; laundry room shelving added; stained exterior; Reunion; basement sub panel added; 400’ well drilled to aquifer; parking lot gets electric power. = POTABLE WELL WATER PLUMBED INDOORS

2018- parking lot 3-way lights wired; basement bathroom framed, toilet installed, poured concrete floor.

2019- basement kitchenette built to completion; leveling tool shed; recoating porch deck, painting porch railing and basement concrete floor = LAKESIDE APARTMENT SUITE

2020- enjoy!

Whew! I’m worn out cataloging all the hard work of Lynn and Duane Murphy. Nearly a decade of improvements and now we are truly here with the fifth generation, living comfortably thanks to the myriad modernizations. Heartfelt gratitude! Another perfect day… I’m glad I spent it with you!

Lake put on his flowered headdress and he was a coyote. He jumped his wilder jumps and gnashed his wilder teeth. He simultaneously protected and terrorized mama and daddy’s blanket covered pile of “cats”. Luckily Missy was represented by a stuffy because “Missy” quickly became this coyote’s breakfast. If Lake were Max, he might have been sent to bed without any supper, except Lake was not Max. Lake was Lake the coyote and he caught and ate his own breakfast. He carried her around in his jaws, tail and paws dangling out of an oatmeal canister!

Such is lake life in the morning.

In the evening things are a tad less wild but no less hilarious.

At dinner Lake entertains us all with his whimsey. He says, “This soymilk makes my teeth damp! …This corn, when I bite into it, makes my teeth hurt. I need to sharpen my teeth again! …That bee is trying to make honey out of me!”

A perfect day, I’m glad I spent it with you.