We ran off to Cheney Lake the other evening, looking for some “downtime” and rest. Cheney Lake is an hour away, hidden in the old barrens of Douglas county among jackpine and pin oak scrub and plantation pine. A few popple trees. It’s a little blue bowl in the sand owned by the county. No residences. A few stray soda cans and the black remains of warming fires give evidence of small, infrequent local gatherings. We happen to know where to find it because Elv logged up there many years ago.
It’s at full pool these days with a lovely sandy beach. Benny was so relieved that there was no aftermath of swimmers itch to contend with after they swam.
Our family has played here for many years in the summer. We missed a few years when the county put a berm up so we couldn’t drive to it anymore. But now that obstacle has been nicely overcome … there’s not even a sign there anymore, we can take the grandchildren now. We are richly blessed to have a two generation tradition. God has been so good to us.
Elv created and gave to me my own personal stash of fishing tackle. I am so pleased. I can’t believe I forgot to bring a pole and tackle along. There were fish out there, too, as we could tell both by seeing them and hearing them jump as it was getting dark.
After the sun slid far enough down the horizon, the boys got out of the water and happily snuggled into dry clothes and their jackets.
I scrounged for fuel and my stashed lighter and we had an immediate warming fire. Elv followed that little ritual up with his own scrounging and we soon had a lovely flame.
We’re glad we stayed for complete sun-down and the song of the whippoorwill. What better way to end a good couple of hours of family play and visiting.
God’s in His heaven’s all’s right with the World. Good night.