Open Roads by Susan L.

It's about three and a half hours of driving time to get to my son's home. Going down on Friday was a visual feast. Dark and broken rain clouds left just enough room for the sun to pierce through. "Jacob's Ladders" I've heard these sunbeams called. They randomly set on fire the glorious colours of autumn. Dry, rusty brown fields of canola gleaned like brass. The yet to be harvested acres of corn shone like fine gold. Trees, robed in oranges and yellows, exploded against the shadows cast by glimmering slate gray clouds. On my way home yesterday I pulled off my route to follow a short road that led to Lake Huron. I'd been wanting to check it out for a while. For the first time the weather cooperated. I couldn't resist. The gravelled and pot hole filled lane ended at a steep bluff. The lake was furious, wind driven whitecaps dotted its surface as far as the eye could see. I am always awed by the size of this deep, blue and green lake. A narrow strip of beach was about three stories below. Wind driven waves thundered against the rock strewn sands with a roaring like the ocean surf. There were other people around so I gingerly scrambled down the steep and slippery embankment to the beach. Clumps of grass served as hand holds as I carefully planned my next step. I shook my head at this foolishness but couldn't resist walking by the water. I didn't stay long. The wind had icy fingers. Scrambling up again left me a bit breathless and images of broken limbs had teased me until I was safely at the top. The piece of brown "sea glass" stashed in my pocket made it all worthwhile. It was the perfect end to a perfect day. "All things were made through Him, and without Him nothing was made that was made." Jn 1:3