While enjoying Sunday morning breakfast at The Shop, a nearby bar and grill owned by the parents of the woman who had recently referred to me as a "Lumbersexual", I peered out the window to discover that the morning drizzle had suddenly transitioned into a violent snow storm, enormous flakes of snow measuring two inches in diameter descending from the sky at an astounding rate. I raced back to the cabin, grabbing my camera to capture the bizarre phenomenon, which only lasted for about thirty minutes. The lake, almost entirely washed out in white, was barely visible as the gusting winds blew enormous flakes of snow in every direction, altogether obfuscating the familiar view of the pine trees lining the opposing waterfront.
In interest of watching the sunset, I later ventured down to the beach, unable to stand on the lake for the past several days following the recession of the ice from the shore, which exposed a forty foot wide ring of frigid water between itself and the sand. I sat there alone as the heavy winds forced delicately dispersed clouds to march across the phosphorescent sky, the ripples in the icy water dancing towards the shore as I wished for someone else to share the experience with.