Squam was the interval

Our Squam adventure actually began in Charlotte, Vermont, when e.b. picked us up from the airport in Burlington.
While in Vermont, we shared time hunting for hole-y and striped stones on the shores of Lake Champlain where Elizabeth and her family live.As guests of e.b. and her family, we were treated to all the comforts of home as well as the fruits of fall.A trip to Shelburne Orchards yielded apples that led to . . .
a delicious pie baked by e.b.'s charming son Boone
and cider doughnuts for breakfast.
Evening found us wandering this calming labyrinth, which was just the thing to get us in the mood for Squam . . .where a cabin on Squam Lake was the perfect setting for what was to come.An evening bonfire with the music of Jonatha Brooke warming the chilly fall air . . .walks through the woods for meals and classes . . . cozy evenings by firelight with friends . . . We looked with our hearts . . .
and we saw them . . .
everywhere.
Our paths were lit by ice lanterns . . .
carved from the lake.
Our cabin ice-boxes were cooled by the same ice, kept over the summer in this ice house.We witnessed beautiful sunsets
and skies filled with stars . . .
lots of stars.
And we danced with our shadows at every opportunity.
We skipped stones (or at least watched Isabel skip stones).
And we marveled at how seamlessly art melded with nature.
Yes . . . the interval between a yawn and a sigh.

Sigh.