As the summer slumbers, fall sneaks in leaving bright leaves and cooler days. The creek near the house seems to tumble along more briskly. Down by the lake, mists rise from the waters each morning. If you are up early, you might see a lone rowboat, fisherman sitting solemn and waiting for a nibble.
Even the light slants differently across Leelanau, shading the hills for artists and photographers.
My father said that around each turn in Leelanau county there was a new painting. Last September, my father died. He was buried before the snow flew last winter. I hope that heaven is unrolling bright vistas for him to enjoy. I hope he's found my mother who he pined for since her death.
I miss him. I miss them both.
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