A Rainy Day at the Lake - Dispatches from Maine

There is something very special about a rainy day here on Sabbathday Lake.  Of course we come to Maine each summer to enjoy the pleasant New England weather (although we do have our share of the hot and humid days that seem atypical for these latitudes), but rainy days have their special appeal.  I am not talking about those days when there is a passing shower or two which accomplish nothing more than settling the  dust.  I am referring to one of those all day, soaking rains; a day when you look outside and are glad that you have nowhere in particular to be; a day when you can choose to stay inside with a good book.  Or perhaps do a little writing or painting . . . or take a short nap while listening to the tattoo of raindrops on the roof.  I enjoy sitting back in one of those overstuffed chairs and staring out at the lake as the sheets of rain stipple its gray green surface.  And, if it rains long enough and the outside damp begins to creep inside, perhaps a fire in the old wood stove is in order, feeding it just enough fuel from the woodbox to hold the cold dampness at bay.  There is something about that crackle of the flames as the fire takes hold of the kindling, giving way to a thrumming wrawl as the larger logs catch.  Soon a gray gauze of smoke drifts over the lake mixing with the mist rising off the water.  Yes, there is something special about a rainy day.  The sun and the blues skies will be back soon enough.  I’m in no rush.