Ghosts From the Northern Skies

[Editor's Note: Our narrator is currently relaxing by the lake Up North. Those of you who know what the term "Up North" means do not require any further explanation. Those who don't know can find out more by visiting the fair state of Minnesota. Below is a reprint of a post first written last year while on vacation here.]

Five generations of my family have summered up here in the northern aspen and pine forests. Strolling around the sandy, loamy grass fields of this peninsula, sitting under the giant whispering trees lining the beach with dark green shade, I find myself daydreaming about the past and the people who built these old cabins - my ancestors. Out on the water I can see men in ironed white shirts rowing huge wooden boats across the bay. As they pull onto shore children in shorts and suspenders rush to greet them and drag wet, flopping bundles of fish across the sand, too heavy for thin arms to lift.

Up next to the log cabin a patch of grass conceals an ancient pit, once filled with blocks of ice cut during the dim daylight of winter and buried deep under the snow until the change of seasons brought sputtering cars, straw hats and grease-smeared aprons back to the lake. I see my great-grandfather produce a massive, steaming cube out of the warm earth like a magician and place it on the back of a horse-drawn wagon, wiping sawdust off of it with a red rag.

Echoes seem to carry across the lake and forest like a bell ringing over a mountain valley. From the old fish house at the water's edge, above the ribbon of smoke twisting from the chimney, from the gnarled nets now hanging high up against the wall of a forgotten garage, I hear shouts of trees bending under muscles and axes, squeals of cold water hitting unsuspecting backs and most of all, laughter.

Meandering around this timeless home, my footsteps rest upon others laid long ago, and below those anothers, each sinking into the earth and leaving behind a record of those who came up here over all these years to be together and daydream under the silky clouds. May those who stop here to enjoy the blue skies forget the reasons why they needed to get away, and sink into the forgiving sands.