High Energy

Gunflint Lake was loaded with energy today.  The  morning brought southwest winds, which made for some smaller waves, but still allowed for some fishing activity.  Some of our fellows went out and found some decent smallmouth bass activity at the east end of the lake, near the islands. 

By mid-afternoon, a bank of clouds rolled through, bringing with it a bit of rain, but a huge change in the wind.  Our old friend, the northwest wind, came whipping down the lake, and the waves started to roll.  Just another one of the many faces we see on this big lake out in front of us. 

Wake Up Call

This fine June morning brought me this view when I first looked out.  The lake was veiled in a haze that obscured the opposite shoreline.  This must be summer's version of "I can't see Canada."  In the winter, that means the snow is falling heavily.  For me, it meant the perfect moment to grab the morning cup of coffee and head to the dock to watch the early day unfold.

I guess that even morning has to have a wake-up call on occasion.  The breeze was light, keeping the mosquitoes at bay.  Only one bothered to find me, and she was quickly dispatched.  Two seagulls kept me company, floating near, ever watchful of the opportunity for something to eat.  Lately, I've seen a bird or two lunching on the dock.  Scattered around me were morsels of fish flesh from yesterday's meal.

As the sun grew stronger, the haze began to recede, revealing that familiar view across to Canada.  The waves were lapping the shoreline and the dock, and a motorboat sped past on the north side of the lake.  Headed east, I'm certain that they were out in search of those walleyes and bass I've been hearing about down in Little Gunflint Lake.

Soon enough, the cloud curtain had pulled back almost completely, with just a bit left at the west end of Gunflint Lake.  The trees and the lake were showing off their colors as the morning sun shone on them.

What a way to start the weekend!

Colorful Sail

Bunny Babies

Thunder is rumbling just to the west as I write this from the screen porch.  The lake is mostly calm, with a few surface ripples.  Every now and again, the breeze answers the thunder with a loud sigh.  We are fully leafed out now, and with the load of rain we received last week, the fire danger is low.  That's a sigh of relief for us, should this coming storm produce much in the way of lightning.  It's always enjoyable to watch a storm develop, especially from the safety of our front porch.

Paul made a discovery last week that he kindly shared with me.  While out doing yardwork, he encountered a little clutch of baby bunnies. 

Such irresistable little guys we have not seen in a long time.  What is it about babies that makes us want to drop everything and just watch them?  I recall that feeling with my own sweet little ones.  It seems I spent countless moments watching them sleep.  Perhaps a part of me knew that those days would fly by--as they did--and I wanted to cement the image into my mind, to have forever. 

These wee ones didn't really want to be watched that closely.  They began wiggling and moving, sneaking their way under a nearby chunk of lumber.  Probably a good idea, as it would provide more shelter from predators who might be passing by.  We got to see one guy on his own, and he posed for this photo:

I loved how his ears were still little things, but his feet showed the promise of size and leaping ability.  He'll need those, if he ends up living near the road, as so many bunnies do.  Why they choose that location, I still can't answer.  I do my best not to hit any when traveling a certain stretch of our side road, but sometimes there are a dozen or more.

It's the season of babies, most certainly.  We'll keep our eyes on the lookout for more of the new crop of creatures in our neck of the woods.