September Sky

It was a September sky this morning. But the roaring heat of the late August sun still blinded us, even as it hung low in the early morning sky. The lake was still, but not calm. Not like the morning before, when it was so still and white, I could have sworn it was already a single icy slab. On this morning, it was a deep royal blue, and the surface trembled as a knowing temptress, seductive on the surface, but bonechilling underneath.

As we turned down the tree-lined path, I shivered as I realized how silent it was; the gulls clamored now and then, and the trees rustled gently, but even Dalton padded quietly along, as if everything was waiting with drawn breath for the impending winter. The captain never looked fiercer... or more racked with anticipation for the arrival of an icy storm. As we looked out over the water, a cool breeze from the North told us it was time to turn back. There wouldn't be many more days like this in store for us.