Having Pinecrest to ourselves

My brother, Tom, and I rendezvoused at the family cabin last Sunday through Tuesday. Tom had two days off from school and I had several projects that I knew would benefit by uninterrupted time. I have always loved being at Pinecrest after the summer crowds have ebbed away, back down the mountain. A fresh layer of pine needles lies damp and untrodden on the road in front of our cabin. There is even a touch of snow. As we walked through the deserted campgrounds on our way to the store for coffee and filters, I recalled the strumming guitars, barking dogs, laughing children, crackling campfires, haze of smoke, fragrance of meat grilling, gaggles of kids on bicycles, beach towels on ropes strung between trees, and genial companionship around picnic tables of just weeks before, now swallowed up by the peaceful hush of this early evening dusk. We followed the route, made familiar by a lifetime of such walks, to the general store. In the summertime, the parking lot would have been packed with big trucks, SUV's, and mini-vans. Children with dripping ice cream cones would be perched on the side of the covered porch watching people being pulled by big dogs on leash and tanned teens in bikinis and flip flops checking out what movie would be playing that night at the outdoor amphitheater. There would be a line at The Serene Bean - the scent of espresso wafting along the porch. The doors to the general store would be slapping open and shut with frequent traffic. This evening it was just the two of us and the very nice lady with a miserable cold behind the counter at the store. They were out of the size of coffee filters we needed, so she graciously offered us a few from the store's espresso machine to go with our Sonora Roasting Company French Roast. From there we circled back along the lake front. The swimming buoys had been stored away. The waterline had receded to reveal islands of boulders hidden June through August. The surface of the lake was still, untroubled by the thrum and churning of motor boats. A few fishermen lingered hopefully along the shore as gulls soared by overhead. We turned away from the lake up the hill toward the cabin where we added another log to the wood stove, brewed a fresh cup of coffee, and settled down in companionable silence to read. Perfect peace.