Dear Sunday Letter readers,
Better late than never! I started writing this Sunday Letter on October 10 from beautiful Lake Norfork when the trees were just beginning to show their fall color. Boaters were few—mostly those fishing in quiet coves. Gone were the pontoons filled with spirited summer vacationers, music blasting. No jet skis. No hot dog roasts on the island. No cliff jumpers. Sitting around a warm fire after sunset felt cozy! (Not so much in steamy August.)
Every season contains magic, and at the time of my recent visit, the lake was wonderfully peaceful and quiet. It was about the herons trolling for supper and the hawks gliding on the cool breeze. It was about the fog lifting from the cove at dawn.
My grandparents always went to the lake on Christmas Day. Maybe I’ll go back this winter. Seeing the lake during a snowfall would be stunning. The thing is—the love of a particular place is one you always return to, sometimes in person and sometimes in your mind. Do you have a place like that?
Anyway, I finally finished this Sunday Letter five minutes ago, two weeks after starting it, and after traveling all over the state twice. I’m glad you are here!
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