Today the lake was reminding us that the season of change is at hand. The surface moved with a sense of urgency, but with adolescent restlessness. Waves tumbled into foam before reaching the maturity of the big rollers that roam across the lake when the surge is driven by forces deep within the lake's soul. It's awakening to seasonal changes in temperature and wind patterns. The inertia of its warm summer slumber still dominates, but its surface skin senses the changes wrought as we tip away from the direct energy rays of the sun. I think of it as a sleeping giant stirring from a deep sleep. The long dormant muscles are twitching, but not yet flexing their full strength. By November, the soul of the giant Superior will be fully aroused and the big crashing seas of Fitzgerald fame will again be surging across its surface.
Those of us who are the lake's neighbors can also sense the mood of the lake just by listening. Today it was just noisy. None of the thumping sound of a lake surging, nor the murmur of a lake at rest, but the steady roar of restlessness. The busy sound of water moving about without focus or purpose. The sound is pervasive, yet simply a background noise against which the sound of voice, of bird, of whatever, must compete. Not a sound to listen to for its own merit. It's there, but it has no message other than to say, "I'm here". Like its motion, the sound is adolescent.
A picture can convey the beauty of Superior, but one must also feel its movement and hear its sound to truly sense the mood of the big lake.
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