8:12 am, Monday August 26, 2013, Lightfoot Bay

 

Whitetail Deer the morning we left Lightfoot Bay

This is the last morning of the last day here at Lightfoot Bay. The weatherman has forecasted thunderstorms all week and early this morning, he was finally correct. Around two a.m. I could hear thunder off in the distance. Awakened I lain in bed watching the sky brighten and darken through the double-hung window. The wind picked up and soon the rain came down. The droplets bounced off of the metal roof, pinging in a steady rhythm, the rhythm growing louder when suddenly a large thunder boom rocked the house. The boom repeated itself down Keweenaw Bay growing fainter as the echo approached the village of Baraga.  The overture had ended, the rain continued on another couple hours.

It was a needed rain. Like home, the ground and its vegetation are parched. My parents’ front lawn that was lush green over the Fourth of July now is yellow and brown. In this last week of summer, Mother Nature chose to nourish her environment with liquid sustenance.

Unable to sleep, I read the materials Sister Maria had given me when we visited the Bishop Baraga Shrine. Most of the information talked about the missionary work converting the “pagan” Native Americans to Catholicism. But one quote seemed appropriate this night,

“From four to five in the morning and sometimes from three to five, you would find him kneeling…in sweet conversation with his Lord…We have seen him thus…in the dark forest and on the shores of lakes, amidst the roaring storms as well as in his chapel. “ (The Life of Bishop Baraga by Father P Chrystostomus Verwyst, OPM, page 197)

The evidence of the early morning rain was obvious this morning. The rains washed down sand from the two-track road leading to the house and pushed aside the dried white pine needles in its path. Our car that yesterday looked like it hadn’t been washed in months was cleared of the red dirt that coated the car's windows and body. The heat of yesterday has temporarily broken with the rain, leaving a damp chill in the sky.

As I dressed this morning, I began to pack my belongings into their totes. There is no reason to rush this morning as the only item on today’s agenda is the 7 hour drive home. The mail will be delivered today as will the five days of newspapers that have been sitting at the carrier’s house. The cats will anxiously await their freedom from each others’ presence and will be showered with love and attention. As for myself, I leave reluctantly. My time here, once again, was much too short.