There are many Trumpeter Swans gathering for a rest after their long flight North.
We were visiting at Shell Lake one night.
This is a hill from my childhood, possibly before I was afraid of heights or maybe the reason why I am afraid of heights. The road used to be narrow and gravel. The sand on the hill soft and slidey… you could slide down on your butt and then run along the road and duck back in at the edge of the woods and go back up to the house again and slide back down until you were tired or an adult hollered that you better stay away from the road. Your socks and shoes would be all full of sand, if the sand was damp, your butt would be all wet and dirty.
No more sliding down hills for me.
It was a great spot to watch the Trumpeter Swans fly over the lake.
The sunset was calm and soothing after a fairly busy day.
I recall seeing many sunsets from this place on the lake. It brought back many memories.
Fresh baked flat bread with butter and jelly, card games played at the kitchen table, knitting projects to oh and aww over as my Aunt was a marvelous knitter. The marble topped coffee and end tables that were in the living room, the old tire swing that hung from a large limb in the yard. Walking the ridges with my Uncle, hunting and learning how to mark your trail in the woods so you would never get lost.