So my friend Jennevieve said I need to blog more. Keep it short, and often. I said I'd try partially because I know she's right, and partially because she's become very handy with scary equipment like saws all and jack hammers.
It's the first week in August and that means the Meersmans congregate at the lake. They've been doing it for 50 some years now. Paul grew up in Spokane, and one of their family friends, the Sperrys, were settlers in Sandpoint area (honest! look them up, especially Alice Sperry -- she was an amazing person). Anyway the Sperrys have a lovely piece of land at the mouth of the Pend Orielle River right around the corner from the Long Bridge into Sandpoint, and they've been wonderful hosts of the Meersmans all this time. Don't worry -- pictures are coming soon.
This will be the second gathering for the Meersmans here without Rose, Paul's mother. The Sperrys are mourning the loss of their Uncle Alan who passed away this last winter from brain cancer. It was strange to pull into the gates, and not be greeted by him as he wandered the property watering the lawn. He made a warm welcome with his big smile and wave, and I'll miss visiting with him during our lazy afternoons on the covered porch.
Okay, I'm off now to do...well nothing. And that's the point of the lake. You come here all wound up from your job and, spend a few days or a week amidst all this beauty chatting with relatives who come from as far as Minneapolis to catch up and reminence. I best be getting to it!